


The Boy King

by EmmasHouse



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, But not explicit, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, im talking 50k words for a kiss slow burn, one canon au and one high school au, stupid high school love triangles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:01:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 44,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22432288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmasHouse/pseuds/EmmasHouse
Summary: After high school, Arthur's life is laid out in strict terms: he is to get his M.B.A., find a suitable wife and settle down, before taking over as C.E.O. of Pendragon Insurance. Until then, all he has to do is keep his grades up and he's free to spend the rest of his time playing soccer and hanging out with his friends.Accident-prone and unable to defend himself, Merlin spends the first fourteen years of his life getting pushed around and insulted. The move to Camelot was logical, necessary if he was to survive.In which destiny doesn't always mean greatness, sometimes it just means two people that are doomed to fall for each other no matter what lifetime they're in.(Featuring a very thin line between friends and lovers, underage drinking, and a lot of teenagers yelling at each other.)rated M for a lot of underage drinking and p*t smoking
Relationships: Gwaine/Merlin (Merlin), Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwen/Lancelot (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), but the focus is merlin/arthur everything else just sort of happens on the way, unrequieted lancelot/merlin
Comments: 37
Kudos: 192





	1. Chapter 1

_ “Uther!” Shrill screams echoed through the halls.  _

_ “Uther, please!” Looking back, the servants would remember the very base of the castle shaking with Morgana’s sobs.  _

_ At only ten years old, Morgana was a force to be reckoned with. She moved into the castle a year ago, but already seemed to run the place. She had King Uther wrapped her tiny finger. She was the sole recipient of all Uther’s affection, and went to great lengths to make sure Arthur knew that. When the King wasn’t looking, Morgana would stick her tongue out at the young prince, steal his toys, and call him names. Everytime Arthur pulled her hair, she yelled loud enough to ensure the King would make Arthur regret it.  _

_ “Uther! Uther, wake up!” The sun hadn't yet risen when the young girl started running through the castle, waking every single servant and knight on the way.  _

_ She burst open the doors to the King’s chambers, with a strength no ten year old girl should possess. She was heaving, out of breath from the journey. The King opened his eyes to meet her’s, overflowing with tears. Her nose was running, she kept wiping at it with a trembling hand. _

_ “Yes, dear, yes-what is it?” Uther sat up slowly, blearily, with a tinge of regret for letting Morgana’s maidservant start spending the nights with her own family. _

_ “I-I had a dream,” She coughs heavily into her sleeve, trying to steady her voice. “And Ar-” A sob. “And Ar-Ar-Arthur is…” A deep, uneven breath. She paused and bit her lip, determined to finish. “He’s going to die tonight.” _

_ Uther lifted her onto the bed, and held her, stroking her hair while she forced herself to stop crying. _

_ “It was just a dream, Arthur is completely fine. He’s sleeping, and you should be too. Let’s get you back to bed.” He spoke to her with gentle, soothing tones that Arthur would never hear. _

_ “It’s not a dream! It’s real! I’m not going to bed until Gaius sees him.” Morgana sticks her bottom lip out with a determined pout she knows Uther can’t refuse.  _

_ “Alright, okay. I’ll send for Gaius.” _

_ _ _

“Arthur, you have to get up.” Morgana tears open the shutters, letting the light of dawn flood into the room. 

“I’m not doing it, Morgs. You can’t make me.” A muffled voice, safe beneath the covers, calls out. 

“Arthur!” 

“If you want to get there early to brown-nose all your teachers, that is fine. But I’m sleeping in!” 

“You’re a rotten brother, you know that right?” She pulls the blanket off of Arthur’s face, just slightly, so the warm blue of his eyes can catch the cool green of her’s. The brief eye contact, the fact that he’s allowed it happen, means that Arthur will be up and out the door in no more than fifteen minutes. 

They are twelve years old and closer than they’ve ever been. As Morgana makes her exit, to start making them eggs downstairs, Arthur regretfully removes the blanket. Autumn is ushered in with September, making the air cold and crisp. It freezes Arthur’s fingers and makes him shiver, which is a horribly weak thing to do.

It is their first day at junior high and Arthur is done feeling nervous about it. He’s spent a summer fretting over what classes he’ll end up in, or if Morgana will leave him behind.

Forcing the worry from his mind, Arthur pulls on a red sweater (his lucky red sweater), and the cool new boots that his uncle Gaius got him for his birthday. He treads lightly down the stairs, for his father’s sake as well as his own. Morgana is waiting for him in the kitchen, with two plates of scrambled eggs decorated with ketchup happy faces. Arthur puts on the kettle, and sets out the coffee beans that his father likes so much.

“We’re not children anymore, Arthur.” She says, over the thrum of the coffee grinder. He wants to say that they haven’t been children for a long time, but Arthur recognizes that there is no need to ruin her good mood. 

“We sure aren’t. We’re in real school now!” He pours the water into french press, grabs Uther’s mug from the cupboard, before finally taking his seat across from her. 

“I can’t wait for my art class.” She says, handing Arthur the ketchup before he’s even asked. “How about you, Wart?”

“I guess I’m excited for soccer.” And he was. It’s been ages since Arthur was last on a team, he’s half forgotten how to play. 

“Stupid sports. Can’t believe I have to stay after school just to wait for you.” Morgana had spent the entire summer trying to get Arthur to skip the tryouts, skip the team. 

“Don’t be like that.” 

“I don’t think you’d wait for me if the situations were reversed.” She huffs, but they both know she’s wrong. There was no length that he wouldn’t go to for her, and she for him. 

_

_ “He’s burning up, sire.” Gaius takes his hand away from the sleeping boy’s forehead. Morgana watches from the corner, still sniffling. _

_ “Arthur?” The physician says, lightly, and shakes the young prince’s shoulders. Arthur doesn’t stir, he only continues to breathe. And with those awful breaths can Gaius hear the severity of his condition--the strained, sticky sound that tells him just how long the prince has been coughing.  _

_ “Get me a washcloth and a bucket of cold water.” Gaius says to his apprentice, a boy of twenty-two years with a gift for potions and nothing more. The boy hurries out the door, nearly tripping over himself as the King enters the room.  _

_ “Do you know what it is?” To anyone else, his tone would’ve seemed apathetic for a man discussing the fate of his own son, but Gaius could hear the worry and the shock beneath Uther’s cool demeanor. _

_ “I think it is the sweating sickness that has begun to spread in the lower town, sire.”  _

_ “Oh, dear God.” Uther sinks to his knees, crestfallen, for influenza was neither discovered nor curable yet.  _

_ “Do not lose hope, Uther.” Gaius says, with the voice of a friend instead of a physician for once. “Arthur is stronger than we think.” _

_ _ _

“Pendragon, Arthur.” 

“Present!” He calls out, voice high and childlike despite all he practiced. He hears a few snickers from the back row and feels a little dejected, cheeks blooming scarlet.

“Pendragon, Morgana.”

“Here, Ms. Merriweather.” And her voice is calm and cool, for all of her blatant attempts at favoritism. 

Class goes on and Arthur feels impossibly small. He doesn’t raise his hand again, fearing those voices at the back and their torment.

“Don’t pay them any mind, they just like to think they’re better than eveyone else.” The boy on Arthur’s left whispers to him in the middle of the lesson. 

“Thank you.” He whispers back, turning to face the boy. He is tanned with a mop of curly brown hair, and a smile that is almost blinding.

“I’m Lancelot, but please just call me Lance. Please.” The boy says, and his eyes flick back to the boys in the back row.

“Okay, Lance. I’m Arthur.” He sticks out his hand, a gesture Uther says is always appreciated, no matter how dated it may seem.

When they shake hands, it isn’t so dramatic as two knights grasping each other in preparation for battle, but it is firm and solid. It is a promise of loyalty and friendship above all else, even if they are only twelve years old and the fate of the world is no longer in their hands.

_

_ Arthur overcomes the sickness in three weeks. The fever breaks a day after Morgana’s dream. Mere hours after she had knelt at his bedside, whispering “Please be okay, please be okay,” until her eyes could no longer stay open and her throat was sore.  _

_ When Arthur wakes, he lays a hand against the top of her head. Too weak to utter the words, he hopes his affection is thanks enough.  _

_ Arthur has horrible chills in the days that follow. He gets a mild burn from huddling too close to the fire. But the marred skin mends itself and disappears with the icy feeling in his veins. The cough is the last to go, lingering for months after the Prince recovers. _

_ As soon as Arthur is well enough to spar with the other children of the knights, Uther calls him into the throne room and slaps him harshly across the right side of his face. He has never been hurt by his father before, not like this. But then Uther is shaking not with rage, but fear. Arthur likes to think that the tears he sheds are not his own, but the ones his father cannot afford to. _

_ “Don’t you ever do that again.” He whispers, clutching Arthur’s head to his chest, stroking his hair not tenderly, but with rough hands that tremble with each movement. _

_ “If you are ever feeling unwell,  _ **_ever_ ** ,  _ you must tell Gaius.” It is a direct order from Arthur’s king, from his father, and from the man that walks the line between. The man that hardly knew the difference. _

_ “I didn’t want to bother you guys. I thought it was just a cough and headache.” Arthur sobs, because he is only a child with a stinging cheek and he hates to be punished. He hates to have made any mistakes at all. “And Gaius was busy caring for the other children and I thought I could get better on my own.” _

_ “You are the Prince, Arthur. You come before everyone else in the kingdom, okay?” If he were not the King, Uther would have pressed a kiss to the top of his son’s head then, to say ‘you are not just the Prince, you are my son.’ But Uther Pendragon was a king more than he was a father, and it was important that Arthur knew duty before love. _

_ _ _

Arthur’s first year of junior high exceeds all of his expectations. He plays defense on the soccer team, and has more trophies than he can count one hand. He convinces Lance to try out for the team with him, and they both make it. They have sleepovers almost three nights a week, and their older friend from the team, Leon, starts inviting them over to his house for practice. 

Amid all of the excitement between soccer and his new friends, Arthur doesn’t see how Morgana is the one who is left behind. He doesn’t see her struggle to make friends outside of the art room, or eat lunch in the library. When he is at Lance’s house, being served french toast, Arthur doesn’t think about how Morgana doesn’t know how to make coffee the way Uther likes it. 

When winter break rolls around, Arthur’s cheeks are permanently flushed from all of the snowball fights and days in the park with Lance and Leon. Morgana’s cheeks are tear-stained and her eyes are puffy. 

As she hides underneath her covers on Christmas Eve, she realizes that she has never felt so alone in her life. She is twelve years old and her only friends are her teachers. 

She resents her brother, who has everything he wants and never feels alone. Her brother who let her face Uther’s yelling all alone. She doesn’t understand that these few months of fighting with her father will give her the one thing Arthur can’t have--defiance. 

Morgana is furiously wiping the tears from her eyes, when Arthur forces her bedroom door open with his student ID.  _ So much for locking the door, _ she thinks, and prays for Arthur to believe her feigned slumber. 

But the door shuts quietly from the inside, and a weight settles at the end of the bed. Slowly, she peeks out from under the duvet, already scowling. But Arthur only smiles back at her.

“Go away, Arthur.” She hisses, because he doesn’t deserve to see her when he’s spent all semester abandoning her. Arthur laughs, quietly, so as not to wake their father.

“Happy Christmas, Morgs.” And he holds out his hands. In the dim light, Morgana can barely make out the outline of the small creature in her brother’s palms. 

A set of green eyes open sharply. The kitten tries to free itself from Arthur’s grip, and Morgana has tears in her eyes for an entirely different reason now. 

“Oh my God,” She says softly, and the kitten-a small, fluffy, white thing-leaps into her arms.

“I haven’t meant to leave you, I promise. And I’ll never do it again.” Arthur swears in the darkness, with the grave, honest tone of a king long dead. 


	2. Chapter 2

Huninth prayed every single night. To ask kindly for things-more money, a better job. To thank the Lord for the blessings she thought she owed to some divine force. Every night, she would say thanks that Merlin always sleeps through the night, despite all of his other problems. Even if convincing him to go to bed in the first place was a nightmare, at least he would never wake up crying.

Only tonight, Merlin wasn’t sleeping, and she could hear the clicking of his laptop keys from down the hall. As Hunith pressed her ear against the door, she could hear him speaking softly to himself.

“...and it’s going to be okay. They’re going to tease you and you’re going to take it like a man.” It was silent enough for Hunith to hear her own heart breaking for her kind, sweet boy who would never have it easy. 

“And Will’s gonna be there right after school. You only have to make it through the day.” 

_ You only have to make it through the day _ was probably their shared mantra. Between Hunith’s classes and her job at the office, the day was almost too long to bear. And for Merlin, she knew, the day never really ended.

_

_ “Merlin.” Hunith’s voice was soft, raspy. Words must be chosen wisely when every syllable hurt. “Put out the fire.”  _

_ The child stood in front of the kitchen fire pit, with a thin blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He could only whimper in response.  _

_ “Merlin.” She called out again, forcing more volume. She would do anything to avoid moving towards him, expending precious energy on it.  _

_ “It’s cold, mom.” His voice was too hoarse for any healthy five year old.  _

_ “I know, love. But it’s pouring outside. You know we can’t have fire.”  _

_ “But we  _ **_can_ ** _.” He whispers back, facing her with golden eyes, and Hunith wonders if he will ever understand.  _

_ “Put it out, Merlin!” She forces a normal speaking voice, which was synonymous with yelling since the famine began. _

_ The fire extinguishes itself and Merlin’s eyes fade into their natural, muted blue. He lays down next to Hunith, and shivers. _

_ “I’m sorry,” is all the comfort she can give her child. The rain beat against the walls and the roof. Little drops seep through the wood and fall onto their faces. She wraps her arms around him, and prays that tomorrow will be better. _

_ _ _

The first day of school is always hard for Merlin. But the first day of school without Will, for the first time ever, is going to be even worse. Everything is going to be different now that Will has gone on to junior high, without Merlin. There is no one to protect him now, from the bullies and the teachers. Now Merlin has to stand up for himself alone, eat lunch alone, and wait until the end of the day alone. 

“Emerson, Jennifer.” Mr. Johnson, calls, and a girl up front raises her hand. 

“Oh, dear God.” The teacher says, and Merlin shrinks back further into his seat.

“Merlin Emrys?” He sighs, and Merlin raises his hand. 

“If this classroom is damaged in any way, boy, there will be hell to pay.” Merlin nods, before pulling his hood up over his head, and laying his head down on the desk. He is far beyond crying at this point because he knows that it only makes things worse. 

There is no precise reason why disaster seems to follow Merlin around, ruining his life. It has just always been that way. As a baby, Merlin choked on a blanket that had wrapped itself around his neck. As a toddler, he broke the DVD player by touching a single button. When he was younger, Hunith affectionately joked that he suffered from “the clumsies.” Throughout primary school, well, there were too many incidents to name. The most famous being last year, when he accidentally ended up in the ER after stepping on a rusted nail in P.E. (He spent the hour after it happened trying to tell the teacher that he was bleeding but no one listened to him. There were too many accidents associated with Merlin Emrys to take all of them seriously.) 

By age seven, Merlin was well versed in Murphy’s law. “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong,” has been the guiding force in his short life for as long as he could remember. No one wants to be around an accident prone child, especially one with a penchant for taking things apart. 

The girls in Merlin’s grade hated him, because they will never forget the time he took apart Allison Abbot’s Furby and couldn’t put it back together right in the third grade. The boys hated him simply because he was hateable. Merlin was the perfect scapegoat for ten year olds everywhere. He messed up constantly, so much so that even the teachers hated him. By the fourth grade, it seemed like all of the adults on campus had turned a blind eye to anyone bullying Merlin. 

The day dragged on and there was no knight in shining armor to replace Will. There were bullies, of course, who stole his lunch and kept him off the swing set at recess. There were no nice teachers who labeled him as “misunderstood.” The world was against Merlin from day one, and that’s just the way things were.

At the end of the day, Will is waiting at the bus stop for him, and they walk home. Will is full of stories from junior high: how big the school is, how all of his classes are taught by different teachers, and how he’s going to join the art club. 

“Well at least you had a good day.” Merlin grumbles as they trudge up the hill to his house. 

“Don’t be like that.” Will frowns. “Next year, you’ll have a great time in junior high with me. You can join art club with me and it’ll be fun. I promise.”

“That’s what you said about the dirt bikes.”

“It’s not my fault you crashed into the ramp instead of jumping it.” 

“Some big brother you are…” Merlin says to himself, and Will beams, happily accepting the title. 

_

_ “C’mon Merlin, don’t be such a wuss!” Will calls out and Merlin is about to cry.  _

_ “Just climb the tree and I’ll give it back!” The older boy waves the blanket in his fist tauntingly. Merlin takes a deep breath. He is eight years old and he is not afraid of anything except for knights and men he does not know. He is not afraid of heights and he is certainly not afraid of rude boys.  _

_ He spits on his hands and rubs them together. The first branch is too high, he has to jump up to reach it. He grabs onto it with both hands, and his feet dangling below him. It’s only three feet off the ground, but it is still terrifying. _

_ “Go on then, freak!” Will shouts, but Merlin can’t move.  _

_ “I know you can hear, your ears aren’t that big for nothing!” _

_ A shaky breath and Merlin realizes that are too far into the forest for his mother to help him now. He has to do this himself. Steadily, he swings his left leg onto the branch where his arms are, hooking his foot around it. Next, he grabs onto the closest limb with his right hand. He hoists himself up, repeats the process, and soon enough, Merlin is climbing the tree. The smile is plastered to his face now, as he keeps going, higher and higher.  _

_ In the sycamore’s canopy, Merlin can no longer see Will, or hear his jeering. He can no longer see Ealdor, just miles of green forest ahead. The rolling hills in the distance, sheep dancing across them. The magic inside of him hums, pleased with this synergy of man and nature.  _

_ Merlin can’t say how long he stays up there before he starts to descend, hoping Will gave up on him and left. He realizes too quickly though that getting down is much more difficult than climbing up. He places his foot where there should be a branch, but finds that he has set all of his weight onto nothing. The fall is fast and he hears Will yelling for Hunith, but Merlin knows now that he doesn’t need help from anyone. He catches himself mid-air and floats down gingerly to meet Will, who is completely silent for the first time since he was born. _

_ He raises a hand, pointing at Merlin.  _

_ “You-you’re-you-” He stutters, and only now does Merlin realize the gravity of his actions.  _

_ “You’re a sorcerer!” The other boy whispers. _

_ “Please don’t say that!” Merlin whispers back, eyes still flaring gold. “Please. I know you don’t like me but I don’t want to leave.” _

_ “Leave?” Will sinks down to his knees, leaning against the tree. “I like you Merlin.” _

_ “No you don’t! You always pick on me.” _

_ “You’re the only one who doesn’t pick on me so I have to pick on you.” Merlin realizes then that the only reason the older kids don’t bother him is because they’re always with Will. They bother Will instead of him. The two boys sit in silence, knees touching and avoiding the other’s gaze. _

_ “A sorcerer saved my dad’s life.” Will says after what feels like an eternity. _

_ “You can’t tell anyone.”  _

_ “I won’t. I swear on my life.” Will holds out his hand, meeting Merlin’s eyes with a distinct earnestness.  _

_ “You can’t pick on me anymore.” Merlin takes his hand.  _

_ “I’ll never let anyone pick on you again.”  _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A part of Leon hopes that he will always stay this way. That Arthur will always be this genuine, this pointlessly brave, this charmingly innocent. 

It started out so simply, like any other day. He and Morgana walked to school, hung out in the courtyard before the bell rang. Then he and Lance walked to their English classroom, talking about soccer and weekend plans. Arthur made sure to speak extra loud when Mithian walked through the door, and then avoided eye contact as she sat down next to him. 

There was still three minutes until class started, and everything was normal. As per usual, Owain walked in, and began teasing the student aid, a quiet girl named Gwen. 

This was also an everyday occurance, but normally their teacher is here to ensure it doesn’t go on for very long. 

“Hey Vera, how's Elyan doing?” Arthur hears Owain ask. Lance shifts uncomfortably next to Arthur, undoubtedly deciding whether or not to step in.

“Leave me alone, Owain, or I’ll tell Mrs. Summers.” Gwen continues straightening out the papers on the front desk. 

“No seriously,  _ Vera _ , how is he enjoying military school? Are they teaching him not to cause any more trouble?” 

“Leave her alone, Owain.” Arthur says from his desk, refusing to make eye contact with the bully.

“Or what, Pendragon? You’ll tell your dad on me?” Arthur goes still. 

“Leave  _ him _ alone, and don’t call me that.” It was an uncharastically firm declaration on Gwen’s part, but Arthur didn’t need her to defend him.

“What--Vera? Oh, sorry, I forgot. You prefer Guinivere, your highness.” Owain does a mock bow. Beside Arthur, Lance stares down the clock, counting down the seconds until Mrs. Summers will put this fight to rest. He tries to stop Arthur from getting up, grabbing onto his arm, but his attempts are in vain. 

Arthur stands up to look Owain in the eyes. He knows that even at fourteen years old, he can be intimidating. He’s strong enough, from soccer and track. But mostly, Arthur knew, from years of watching his father, that there was a certain glint in his own eyes, a certain way to set his jaw to create a particularly malicious scowl.

“Don’t you dare say anything about me or my dad. And stop calling her that, she’s already asked you to every day this year.” Arthur remembers the past two years that Lance has fought to break free all of the “Lancelot” teasing. He hates to think that a girl as nice as Gwen had to go through that same torment. 

“Fine, whatever you say, Pendragon. I’ll leave you and your girlfriend alone.”

“She’s not my girlfriend!”

“Might as well be, for all she talks about you.” 

And then Mrs. Summers walks into the room, barks an order for the two boys to sit down and the class to stop laughing. She then politely asks Gwen how her weekend was. 

“It was fine, Mrs. Summers.” Gwen says quietly, and Arthur sees that she has taken her hair out its bun to hide her face. 

Arthur could feel the heat in his cheeks so intensely, he thought he might pass out. He kept his eyes trained on his desk, held his bottom lip firmly between his teeth to stop from crying.

He is fourteen years old and he has never been this embarrassed in his life. He knows from the way that Gwen is hiding behind her hair and staying at the back of the room, that it is not fair for him to be embarrassed. She’s the one who was hurt by Owain’s carelessness, and Arthur shouldn’t get to feel self-conscious because  _ she _ has a crush on  _ him. _ In fact, Arthur should be happy that a girl as kind and smart as her would even want to be friends with him, let alone more.

_

_ “Leon, you prat!” Arthur sprints into the forest, chasing after the red glint of Leon’s oversized cape.  _

_ “Catch me if you can, your royal slowness!” He hears Leon shout from ahead. Arthur keeps running, even if he knows they aren’t allowed this far out of town. If he heads back, then Leon wins, and princes don’t lose. But Leon is really fast. He might only be four years older than Arthur, but the difference between sixteen and twelve is significant.  _

_ Leon’s been a knight-in-training for a little longer than Arthur, but he was already taller and stronger. He was more coordinated, and he didn’t collapse under the weight of his sword. Leon’s father’s hand me down cape was still too big for him, catching on the prickly branches as he ran. Uther’s old cape was much bigger over Arthur’s shoulders, though. The Prince’s cape was meant to be longer, more dramatic, Arthur guessed. He still didn’t appreciate having to account for it in their race.  _

_ Arthur felt the cape get caught under his boot before he fell. As he went down, he wished that he hadn’t screamed, because knights should be stealthy even in danger. Instead, he shrieked like a child, with his arms splayed out in front of him.  _

_ _ _

“You should go find Gwen.” Lance says as soon the two of them sit down at the lunch table.

“I was thinking about it…” Arthur begins, feeling rather conflicted about the whole ordeal. “But I don’t know if that would make her feel worse. What if you went instead?”

“She doesn’t even know me Arthur.” Arthur absently notices Lance’s blush and wonders if he was still struggling with his anxiety. (They rarely talked about it, since Lance hated talking about anything serious that had to do with him. It had taken Arthur two whole years to find out why Lance ate dinner with them so often, when his dad was so much nicer than Uther. Two years of best friendship for Lance to tell Arthur about his home life, when Arthur complained about his father almost every day.)

“Okay, I’ll go find her.”

After searching all over the cafeteria, Arthur finds Gwen in the library, sitting in the back corner and snuggled up in a bean bag. He knocks on the side wall to get her attention. 

“Arthur?” She said, immediately sitting up and wiping her eyes. 

“Hi, Gwen. Can I sit with you?” He asks, trying to force the same gentleness he only seems to have with Morgana’s cat. She nods, and looks back to her book. Arthur pulls up the other bean bag next to her. 

“I’m sorry about Owain.” He says after a beat of silence.

“He’s an asshole.” Gwen says, and Arthur has to force his jaw not to drop in response to her casual swearing. 

“Yeah.” 

She looks back down at her book and bites her lip, like she’s trying not to say something. 

“I don’t like you.” She blurts out, and then puts her hand over her mouth. 

“I mean, I don’t  _ like _ like you. I don’t hate you at all!” She immediately says, looking mortified.

“It’s okay! I know!” Arthur knows he’s gone pink in the ears, he just hopes she doesn’t notice. 

“Okay,” Gwen sighs in relief. “Okay. I’m sorry he made you think I did.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry about Elyan, too.” Arthur moves on, desperate to change the subject. Gwen only scowls at him. 

“No, I really am! I think it’s rotten than Owain and his friends got him expelled.” Arthur remembers what a big deal it had been at the end of last year, when Owain and Elyan had gotten into an actual fist fight on campus. Everyone knows it happened, and that since Owain had to go to the hospital, Elyan was expelled. The rumors started flying as soon as the new semester started, that Elyan went to a military school, that Owain sued his family for the medical bills. No one actually knows where Elyan ended up, except for Gwen, and no one remembers why they were fighting in the first place. 

“He doesn’t go to military school.” She says, closing her book. Arthur knew that gesture meant she was feeling particularly brave. He can’t remember the last time he saw her without a book in her hands. 

“He’s moved in with my grandma in the country a couple towns away. He goes to a normal school over there now.”

“Does he like it?” 

“Yeah. It’s rural so a lot of the kids are poor, too. He doesn’t get teased for it like…” She trails off and Arthur can fill in the blank. ‘Like I do’ is what he knew was coming next. He knows that Gwen didn’t come from the wealthiest family, and that some of the other girls made fun of her clothes. Once again Arthur saw his own best friend in Gwen. While the other boys didn’t make fun of Lance for his poverty, Arthur knew there were different things that Lance struggled with. It was frustrating for Arthur to think about, having grown up in a house with twice as many bedrooms as people. He wished that he could do something for Lance, but Lance was stubborn and prideful. It was rare that he would ever talk to Arthur about money. Gwen, on the other hand...Gwen didn’t have the same pride that Lance did. Gwen didn’t seem to be bothered by her family’s lack of money. That wasn’t the reason why she was crying, why Arthur couldn’t find her in the cafeteria, or remember seeing her with any friends. 

“Do you have lunch here every day?” Arthur asks, getting an idea. 

“I...yeah. I do.” If Arthur were a girl, he would have definitely hugged her then. He remembered how horrible Morgana’s first semester was, when he was always hanging out with the soccer team. She would always eat lunch in the library, alone, while Arthur and Lance sat at a table full of empty chairs. (He also thinks about how awkward Morgana probably feels right now, sitting with Lance without Arthur there.)

“Say, Gwen. Will you come to my table with me? There’s someone I want you to meet.”

_

_ Leon could have sworn his heart stopped beating when he heard Arthur scream A million thoughts raced through his head all at once. He started running in the opposite direction, fearing the worst, fearing that he’d gotten the prince killed. He wondered exactly what would happen if Arthur died. If Camelot was to stay under Uther’s rule forever, and who would fight over the throne when he died.  _

_ As his feet pounded against the earth, Leon was forced to realize that Arthur was different from all of the other knight’s kids. He knew it, abstractly, of course. But it was a separate realization that Arthur was extremely important. Arthur, the goofy, scrawny kid who followed him around everywhere was probably the most important man in Camelot. He was the prince, even if not yet crowned, before he was Leon’s friend.  _

_ By the time he reached Arthur, Leon feared the worst. But the boy was already standing, clutching a hand to his nose, and making his way towards Leon. _

_ “No, keep running! I can catch up!” He said, and Leon wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. Because standing right there, in a tattered, hand-me-down cape, was Arthur Pendragon. The future king of Camelot stood before Leon, in all his five and a half foot glory, with a bloody nose and a nasty gash running up the side of his arm. His hair, light and perpetually unkempt, was full of dirt and twigs.To anyone who didn’t know better, Arthur looked just like any other reckless, over-confident boy.  _

_ “I think we should get you to Gaius.” _

_ “No way! It’s just a scratch!” Arthur turns to the side to spit blood out of his mouth. “Knights don’t have to go to Gaius in the middle of battle.” _

_ A part of Leon hopes that he will always stay this way. That Arthur will always be this genuine, this pointlessly brave, this charmingly innocent.  _

_ “Come on, little prince,” He wraps a protective arm around the boy, tousling his hair. “Let’s go show off your new battle scar.” _

_ _ _

Morgana looked at Gwen like a Christmas present. Another girl at her table full of soccer players. And Gwen looked at Morgana like an angel, sent down to save her from lunches spent in the library. They got along better than Arthur could have ever hoped. Morgana is happier than he’s ever seen her. Gwen spends as much time at Arthur’s house as he does at Lance’s. Gwen becomes a normal presence at the Pendragon house. She starts to talk to Arthur more, without stuttering and rambling. Even Uther seems to like her, which is strange. (Especially since he absolutely  _ hated  _ Lance.)

Owain keeps bullying her, but now that he can’t tease her about liking Arthur anymore it means less. Gwen even helps Arthur ask out Mithian, and then buys him ice cream when Mithian turns him down cold. (“I’m sorry, Arthur. You’re nice, but I really need to focus on getting on the debate team next year.”)

On the last day of school, Gwen and Morgana go to the park with Arthur and Lance. The four of them develop a strange rhythm where the girls mostly hang out with each other and Arthur and Lance don’t pay too much attention to them. It was still comforting though, to feel like they were part of a group.

“Are you nervous for next year? Now that we’ll be in high school?” Gwen asks, laying next to Arthur on the right. 

“Nah. I can’t wait to see Leon again.” Arthur replies, turning to face her. 

“Well I can’t wait to start my animation classes.” Morgana offers from Gwen’s right. 

“Are  _ you  _ nervous, Gwen?” Lance asks, squinting in her direction. 

“I guess so, yeah,” She sighs.” I’m worried that we’ll all be in different classes and stop being friends.”

“Gwen, that could never happen!” Morgana rolls over to wrap Gwen in a hug.

“Seriously, we’re always going to be friends.” Arthur adds, and Lance nods in agreement. 

“Even if we make new friends too, it’s always gonna be the four of us.” Arthur finishes, and he means it. He is excited for what the new year will bring, but a part of him never wants to change. He wants to stay in this one moment forever--the four of them, lying in the grass, basking in the feeling of early June, of summer and recklessness and finally feeling like they are old enough.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t want you to go.” Merlin feels tears welling up in eyes, his vision blurring at the edges. 
> 
> “But I think you’ll die here if you don’t.”

Will was a liar, a sorry excuse for a brother, and an overall scoundrel. Merlin remembers so clearly Will telling him how great junior high was going to be. He said that the bullies would move onto other targets, and that there’s so many kids the teachers would hardly notice him. 

Three years later, and nothing has changed. If anything, Merlin’s life has gotten worse in junior high. The addition of Bunsen burners and chemicals to the science classrooms has had a direct negative impact on Merlin’s well being. He’s set his sleeve on fire more times than he can count, and found a way to ingest chlorine without even touching it. P.E. classes are a nightmare and Will wasn’t ever in any of his classes. He tried to do art club with Will, but quickly found out that he had absolutely no patience for art. 

It got worse in Merlin’s last year at junior high, when Will was off to high school, when the other boy’s insults at school had gotten more creative. It wasn’t that were ever wrong or even off-base--Merlin knew he was a freak and he knew he was gay. Those kinds of insults didn’t faze him anymore. He wasn’t even fazed when they shoved him around, and stole his backpack. He was used to it by now. He was used to the strange looks he got, the accusations hovering on the lips of bystanders. They were all saying it, they have been since Merlin was born. There was no pretense of bad luck, the whole school thought he was nothing but trouble.

Last year, Merlin had topped his worst case of “the clumsies,” as Hunith called it, yet. It became an infamous day in Ealdor when Merlin managed to catch one of the science room cabinets on fire. The entire town talked about it non-stop, spinning the story out of control. They used words like “arson” and “murder,” not once did Merlin ever hear anyone defend him. The whole town seemed to think he was the antichrist, that he tried to set the school on fire and kill their children. 

Of course, they don’t know that it was Merlin’s sleeve that initially caught fire, and that he still had the scar on his right arm to prove it. They don’t know that he was trying to put it out without drawing attention to himself when he reached for the towels in the cabinet. 

But the fire incident of seventh grade wasn’t Merlin’s biggest problem anymore. No, the fire was nothing compared to Gilli. 

Gilli was a transfer student from one of the eastern towns who didn’t quite understand that talking to Merlin was the only way to guarantee he wouldn’t fit in in Ealdor. Merlin tried everything to make Gilli hate him enough to stay away. It was the only way he would survive in this town. 

But Gilli kept talking to Merlin, despite his feigned apathy, trying to befriend him. He texted Merlin after school, asking about how his day went and what homework he had. Gilli walked home with Merlin, and put up with all the insults from the boys at the bus stop. If Merlin didn’t know any better, he would think that Gilli had a crush on him, but that was silly. (Even if a part of him desperately hoped it was true.) Gilli was just lonely, and he knew that Merlin was too. 

Most of the time, they walked home in silence, aside from small talk about their classes. Only today was the last day of school and there is no pretense of talking about homework. 

They fall into an even stride, matching each other’s pace perfectly. It was consistently the best part of Merlin’s day, that walk home. It was nice because he didn’t have to do it alone, now that Will stayed late after school every day.

“I have a bit of bad news...” Gilli said suddenly, breaking their customary silence. 

“Yeah?”

“I’m not staying in Ealdor for high school.” He says, and Merlin looks over at him, with a panicked expression that betrays his air of indifference. 

“Why not?” Merlin keeps his tone tempered, trying to hide the disappointment. The only good thing that had happened to him this year was leaving. 

“Honestly? I don’t feel safe here.”

“What do you mean?” Merlin says timidly, because he knows exactly what Gilli means. 

“I just don’t see how you do it. How you just let them push you around all the time and insult you all the time.” It is strange, because they’ve never been this serious before. They’ve never addressed all of these unspoken things between and around them. It was one of the things Merlin liked most about their relationship. He doesn’t respond for a minute. Merlin wants to take his time deciding on just how brave he was going to be.

“Is it really an insult if it’s true?” He finally said, concluding that as long as Gilli was leaving, he could say anything he wanted.

“Yeah, it is. Because they’re making you feel inferior for no reason, they’re hurting you and belittling you. And you just sit there and take it. You never stand up for yourself. It’s infuriating!” Gilli has never spoken like this in all of the six months they’ve known each other. Merlin has never seen his respectful, mild-mannered attitude turn into this raw, passionate anger. 

“I guess I’m just used to it.” And Merlin knows it’s a cop-out. He knows how cowardly and passive he sounds. 

“You need to get out of here.” Gilli’s words echo through Merlin’s head long after they part ways for the last time.

 _You need to get out of here._

_

_The forest always seemed to calm Merlin down, even at times like this. There was something about the way the moss felt under his feet, the tree bark under his hands, that mitigated the magic seething under his skin._

_“Camelot?” Will asked, and Merlin knew he was in shock._

_“Camelot.”_

_“But they’ll kill you there.” Merlin sighed, because he knew the chances of him surviving in the other kingdom were slim to none. He had the same discussion with his mother the night before. She cried and held him close, telling him that she couldn’t bear to lose him. But she understood his decision immediately, at least._

_“I’d rather risk it in Camelot than stay here, where everyone has known that there’s something wrong with me since I was born.”_

_“But you have me, and your mom. You have_ ** _my_** _mom, for crying out loud. And I don’t even have my own mother!” Will exclaimed, and Merlin was forced to register exactly how much he would miss his best friend._

_“But I’m seventeen, Will. I can’t stay in Ealdor, messing around with you forever. There’s no future for me here--no job, no future wife and children.” It was difficult to articulate exactly what staying in Elador felt like. Merlin didn’t know how to explain his isolation, being forced to hide his identity around people he’s known since birth. Being associated with a series of strange, inexplicable events. There were no words to describe how it felt to live somewhere where everyone knew you, but didn’t know you at all._

_“You could work the farm with me. And I’m sure some girl will come around-”_

_“No one here wants to marry a bastard child, Will. Especially one who the whole village already hates.” They let the silence pass over the moment. Will, trying in vain to think of the one thing that will make his best friend stay. Merlin, wondering if this is the last time his magic will feel like this--alive and still, in full bloom with the trees and flowers. If this one spot, beneath the old sycamore tree with Will at his side, is the only place he will ever feel at home._

_“I don’t want you to go.” Merlin feels tears welling up in his eyes, with his vision blurring at the edges._

_“But I think you’ll die here if you don’t.”_

___

Hunith knew that this was going to happen eventually. She knew that Merlin was going to have to leave, before he lost his mind in this ridiculous, tiny town. A part of her dreaded that his departure would be the result of a horrible accident, because she knew that no matter how many times she threatened the schools, they would never really care about her son. So when Merlin came down for breakfast on the third Saturday of summer break, she was ready for his declaration.

“I want you to know that I’ve thought about this on and off since school got out. And I think I’m ready to live on my own.” He says casually, at the breakfast table, like he wasn’t talking about moving at age thirteen. Hunith blinked as the words set in. The misunderstanding would be hilarious, if Merlin hadn’t sounded so mournful when he said it.

“You can’t just go live on your own, Merlin.”

“Why not?”

“You’re fourteen!”

“Almost fifteen! And you said I could go to Camelot!”

“Yeah, and live with Gaius!”

“Who’s Gaius?” 

“Your uncle? You’ve met him.”

“Yeah, when I was like, two.”

“I’m going to miss you so much,” is all Hunith can say in response. The house is going to be so empty without Merlin. Without his endless rambling, without his wit and affection. She will miss picking up his clothes from the floor, hearing about his day while they ate takeout in front of the Absently, Hunith thinks that this house won’t feel like home if Merlin is not with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much reading! And for commenting and leaving kudos--it makes me so ridiculously happy. I'm hoping to update at least once a week for all my fics, but hopefully more! Thank you again! <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amid all the laughter and teasing, Arthur turned fifteen.

The summer was certainly one to remember. Lance started learning how to drive (the first one of them to attempt such a skill,) and with a little peer pressure from Morgana and Arthur, that meant they were limitless. They were no longer limited by fickle things like walking distance and weather conditions. They could go wherever they wanted--they were finally free. Not that that meant anything at all to Lance, who was wont to worry about everything he possibly could.

“I don’t know guys,” He tapped the wheel nervously, “it’s illegal to drive without an adult without a license.”

“C’mon, Lance.” Arthur teased from the back seat. “We’re just going to the gas station for slushies. Plus it’s my birthday so you can’t say no to me.”

Arthur could see Lance turn the key in the ignition with a sigh. Beside him, Gwen stared out the window, playing with the ends of her hair. 

Lance pulled out of his driveway slowly, checking his mirrors every other second. It was eleven thirty at night, and Arthur was turning fifteen in less than an hour. He and Morgana both knew that there would be celebration at home in the morning. Their father wouldn’t check their beds when he got home, and Arthur would climb through Morgana’s bedroom window via the fire escape around two thirty. Six hours from then, Uther would walk down the stairs and bid Arthur a solemn “Happy birthday,” before going to work. 

They flew down the suburban streets at twenty miles per hour, with Morgana blaring angry punk music through the stereo. Arthur didn’t care for it, but he didn’t really want to fight her for it. Sometimes it was better to let Morgana have what she wanted. 

Gwen rolled her window down, grinning at Morgana. Absently, Arthur realized that she was actually quite pretty. Arthur never gave Gwen much thought before, not since that day they became friends. But suddenly, he found her beautiful, haloed in streetlights with her hair whipping around her face. She was smiling, mouthing along the words to the song and tapping out the beat against her lap. 

Arthur’s heart was racing as they pulled into the gas station. He couldn’t stop staring at Gwen, thinking about the way she laughed when Lance rolled over the curb. He thought about how perfectly her eyes caught the light as he filled a styrofoam cup with blue raspberry and cherry. 

He would decide what to do with this information later. For now, he would focus on feeling young and invincible as long as he could. He was fifteen in twenty minutes. Morgana had her fifteenth birthday two months ago, at the start of the summer. Uther dropped the four of them off at the record store Morgana liked so much, and paid for them to get sushi while he was at work. They always celebrated her birthday with what little time Uther could make for them. Contrastingly, Arthur’s birthday was never a cause for celebration. 

Arthur’s birthday wasn’t a cause for anything except grief and guilt. It wasn’t the day he was born--it was the day his mother died. Uther would acknowledge Arthur once on this day, in the morning before he left for work and they wouldn’t hear from him until the next day. Uther hasn’t spent the night of Arthur’s birthday at home since they were eight (an age he deemed independent enough to spend the night alone.) This was a fact that both Morgana and Lance knew well. Gwen probably knew as well, even though Morgana promised Arthur she wouldn’t tell her. 

Somehow, Lance ended up buying all of their slushies, despite being the poorest of them. It started out with him paying for Arthur’s, since it was his birthday. At checkout, Gwen realized she’d left her wallet at home and Lance offered to pay for her as well. Then, because Lance is who he is, he insisted on paying for Morgana’s so she wouldn’t be left out. 

They spent the remaining time until midnight, the official start of Arthur’s birthday, in the parking lot. Morgana sat on the back of the car, despite Lance’s protests. 

“I hate that I'm going to be the only one who’s fourteen after this.” Gwen lamented from where she sat next to Morgana, who wouldn’t quit complaining until someone joined her on top of the car. “I feel like a baby.”

“That’s because you  _ are _ a baby, Gwen. It’s a miracle you’re even in the same grade as us.”

Arthur looked over at Lance, who had turned fifteen in the middle of eighth grade. He shuffled awkwardly, refusing eye contact. Most of their class didn’t know he was that much older than the rest of them. He never mentioned his birthday for fear of being made fun of. Arthur knew how much Lance would hate it if anyone thought he was held back in school. He would hate it even more if anyone knew the truth about why he started school so late. 

Arthur only found out how old his best friend was a few months ago. At first, he assumed Lance was held back a grade, which seemed the logical conclusion. Lance let him believe this for weeks, until one late night spent talking in Lance’s room. The truth, of course, was much worse than Arthur thought. Lance spent ages four and five living in his father’s car. His dad was too afraid to enroll him in school without having a proper address. Arthur knew that Lance was poor, that his house was a tenth of the size of Arthur’s, but he never knew the real extent. Sometimes, when Lance ate his school lunch with the ferocity of a professional athlete, Arthur worried that he still didn’t know the extent. 

“It’s okay, Gwen.” Arthur said, eager to change the subject on Lance’s behalf, “Maybe this year we’ll meet someone who’s even younger than you.”

“It doesn't even matter.” Morgana added, “Just because Arthur’s turning fifteen doesn’t mean he’s going to stop acting like a three year old.” 

The rest of them laughed in Arthur’s scowling face. Morgana laughed so hard at her own joke (which Arthur would maintain wasn’t that funny) that slushie started coming out of her nose, which only made them all laugh harder. There was still five minutes until midnight. 

“Morgana, I don’t think I’ll make it to fifteen at this rate.” He said, letting the laughter die down as they all recovered. “I’ll die laughing at you.”

“Haha, Arthur. You’ve only got four minutes left.”

“Four minutes?” Lance checked his watch. Arthur thought that Lance was probably the last person to still use an analog watch, which was just barely endearing enough for Arthur to stop himself from teasing his friend for it. “Anything you wanna do before you’re fifteen?”

Arthur pondered the question. There were few things that Arthur thought one should have done by fifteen. So far, he’d already tried alcohol (in a very unfortunate wine-related incident with Morgana when they were thirteen,) and there wasn’t much else he thought was worth it. Unbidden memories of Mithian turning him down cold when he’d asked her out came to mind, followed by images of Gwen’s hand hovering inches away from his on the drive. 

“You know, I’d like to have kissed someone by the time I’m fifteen.” Arthur says, staring Gwen down for a number of reasons. Mostly because he wasn’t shy and he’d spent the past half hour thinking about how pretty she looked tonight. All in all, Gwen wasn’t a bad person to be Arthur’s first kiss. He kind of had a crush on her, as of tonight, and he already liked her as a person. 

Morgana howled with a mixture of horror and amusement, and Gwen, blushing, met her eyes with shock. Of course, Arthur knew there was no way she’d let him kiss her, even if she did like him back. She was far too shy, and Morgana would probably never forgive her for it if she agreed. He said it to be reactionary and maybe, just maybe, in hopes that she’d say yes. 

There was a beat of silence. Arthur kept his gaze confidently trained on Gwen, who looked at Morgana, who in turn looked at Lance. Something transpired between the three of them that Arthur wasn’t quite understanding. Something that made him feel like he wasn’t really pulling off the whole flirtatious thing and made him worry that he was coming across like an idiot. 

“It was a fucking joke, guys. No need to vote on it.” He laughed, attempting to erase whatever tension he had inadvertently created. But then Gwen hopped off of the trunk, and took three steps towards Arthur. 

“O-okay, fine. I’ll kiss you.” 

_

_ Arthur had only been in his father’s bedroom twice by the time he was fifteen. Once to tell him that he had a bad dream, when he was four, only to be told that proper princes aren’t afraid of the dark. The next time, at age eight, on the night when Morgana had her first nightmare, to tell Uther that her screaming was concerning. He carefully avoided the phrase “scaring me” because he knew by then that princes aren’t scared by anything short of monstrous beasts and large groups of disgruntled townsfolk. _

_ Tonight, the night of his fifteenth birthday, he sits at the foot of his father’s bed. It was no longer a struggle to climb onto it, as when he was younger. Now, his legs are longer, stronger from training. In the past year he had grown into his body, beginning to shift from gangly and lean to broad-built and muscular, as a prince should be.  _

_ Uther stood at a wardrobe Arthur knew to be his mother’s. It was one of the only remnants of her left in the castle- a large, ornate, wooden box kept under strict lock and key. The King seemed to hunch over at the wardrobe, as if he were in prayer. Arthur watched him, frozen with the unfamiliarity of his current situation. There was an intimacy here that Arthur hadn’t felt in years, not since his father slapped him across the face and held him tight for what seemed like hours.  _

_ It was strange to think that only two hours ago, Arthur was giggling at the feast, wearing the golden circlet of the Crowned Prince as a joke. In spite of his recent growth spurt, it had still hung lopsided on his head, much to Morgana’s amusement. Leon had draped his cape over Arthur’s shoulders, and hugged him tightly. He was much taller than Arthur, but he leaned down low enough to whisper, “Soon enough I’ll be serving you properly, little Prince. But for now, this is all I can offer.” And under the table, he handed Arthur not a goblet, but a bottle of wine that was surely stolen from the kitchen. Arthur grinned wickedly across the table at Morgana, whose silence would be bought easily.  _

_ The darkness and gloom of Uther’s room, lit by only two candles, was a sharp contrast from the light and joy of the dining hall. Arthur stayed perfectly still, so as not to disrupt the delicacy of this moment. He felt a buzzing under his skin, something telling him that what was about to happen was important. Arthur liked to think he possessed, not magic of course, but an ability to detect the momentous things in life. As he got older, he understood more and more what exactly was expected of him. He had learned that every single interaction, every word spoken by the prince, held weight. Every moment of Arthur’s life was saturated with a certain gravity, an air of importance. Sometimes it was stifling. But Arthur learned to understand what was most important, which memories were going to be burned into Camelot’s history forever. It was like an itch nagging at Arthur, telling him that this moment was big.  _

_ Arthur heard the wardrobe door shut and the click of the lock. Uther turned around, holding a small metal object in his hand. Slowly, he walked over and sat at Arthur’s side, staring at his son with an expression that dangerously bordered pride. He opened his palms to reveal a silver circle, imprinted with a dove in the center. Arthur knew, from distant memories of tartans and coats of arms, that this was the du Bois sigil. That it belonged to his mother.  _

_ “This was your her’s.” Uther said with a strained voice. They rarely said her name. Whenever Ygraine Pendragon was spoken of, Uther only said ‘she’ and 'her.’ Arthur liked to think it was because his father loved her so much that he felt she was the only woman worth acknowledging. He nodded in response, and reached out a hand to touch it, to hold it in his own hands. Arthur felt his mouth go dry, his throat seemingly close up with the severity of this gesture. Held gingerly in Arthur’s palm were centuries of history, and a future that weighed more than the chunk of metal itself. It wasn’t the seal itself that was heavy, it was what the seal represented. _

_ “When you are betrothed, my son, you can give this to the woman you love. Just as I gave-” He swallowed. “-just as I gave Ygraine my own mother’s sigil.” _

_ Arthur nodded once more, and looked down at the sigil in his hand. The metal was cold, and the design was smoothed over, from years of caressing fingers. He felt something warm in his chest, perhaps from a distant connection to his mother or excitement at the possibility of one day loving someone as much Uther had loved her. _

_ - _

Gwen’s lips were much more chapped than they looked from afar, Arthur thought, as he kissed her. It wasn’t a pleasant kiss at all. Arthur had gone in, eyes closed and heart open, ready for fireworks and something screaming inside that this was youth at its peak. In reality, the kiss was rough, and Arthur wasn’t sure how much initiative to take. He kept his mouth closed, pressed against hers in a chaste, awkward motion. He pulled back, of course, when he heard Morgana’s laughter. Arthur’s eyes shot open to see that somehow, he hadn’t kissed Gwen. He had kissed a blushing, highly uncomfortable Lance. 

“I-what? How?” Was all he could say, because Arthur remembered vividly leaning into Gwen when his eyes were still open. The girls kept laughing hysterically. 

“That sucked.” Lance ran his shirtsleeve across his mouth and glared in Morgana’s direction. “And I’m never doing anything for you ever again.”

Having let the shock and the massive embarrassment pass, Arthur joined them in their laughter. He knew, in some strange way, that this was Morgana’s way of revenge for hitting on her only friend. (Something she made Arthur promise he would never do as soon as Gwen started sitting with them.)

Amid all the laughter and teasing, mostly of Lance for agreeing to let Arthur kiss him in the first place, Arthur turned fifteen. He didn’t feel any older as the clock struck midnight. There was no sensation in his veins, chills or otherwise, to let him know that youth was fading, albeit slowly. 

They drove back home blasting the same punk music Morgana chose on the way there, and dropped the girls off at Gwen’s house. Not ready to face the sheer size and emptiness of his house alone, Arthur convinced Lance to stop at the park. 

They laid in the grass, mostly in silence, for an indiscernible amount of time. Arthur was still riding the high of the night, hearing phantom laughter and chasing the warm feeling settled in his chest. To his left, Lance stared up at the sky, splattered with stars surrounding a crescent moon. He bit his lower lip, undoubtedly worrying about something out of his control. 

Arthur hated when Lance worried like this. He wished he could say he worried for Lance’s sake, but he didn’t. Arthur felt guilty when Lance worried. He felt guilty and greedy, with his big, empty house and his father’s money. He hated knowing that Lance was sitting next to him, possibly worrying if he was going to eat tonight or if he would have to stay the night at Arthur’s again. (Neither of them liked it when that happened. Uther seemed to despise Lance for no reason and went to great lengths to assure that he knew it.) 

“I can’t believe you were my first kiss.” Arthur says, to break the silence and draw his best friend out of whatever mood he was in. 

“You should’ve seen it coming, honestly.” Lance’s laugh was dry, almost hollow. He didn’t really mean it, but he wanted Arthur to stop stressing.

“Why did you do it anyways?” Arthur assumed it was because Lance was a little terrified of Morgana, and would probably do anything she asked. 

“Oh, well...you know. They thought it would be funny.” Arthur thought there was something slightly off about the way Lance spoke, like he was trying not to say something. 

“What’s going on with you? Is it because of the car? Because honestly, I don’t think it’ll even matter in the long run. We’ll just take it back and you dad’ll never know.” 

“It’s just-” Lance sighed, rolling over to face his friend. A dozen expressions passed over his face- hesitant, afraid, angry- before he settled on determined, with a firm set to his jaw. “You can’t fuck around with Gwen like that. She really likes you, Arthur. It wasn’t cool of you to mess with her.”

“She what?” Arthur whispered, hoarsely. The world seemed to freeze with Lance’s statement. Arthur’s blood felt cold in his body, as though his heart gave out.

“She’s liked you forever, Arthur. Since the sixth grade when you let her borrow those stupid colored pencils.” Lance’s voice was fraught, with notes of something Arthur couldn’t quite describe. He didn’t even remember lending Gwen any pencils, let alone having her in any classes before last year. 

“I wasn’t messing with her.” Arthur says after taking a minute to process everything Lance said. “I like her. I think I really like her.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur seemed to be a rather polarizing character. He was all Gwen, Morgana, and Lance had talked about in the few hours Merlin’s known them. Despite Lance’s assurance of Arthur’s character, Merlin couldn’t help but have his doubts.

Gaius was a strange man. He worked long, unpredictable shifts at the hospital and spent what little free time he had watching reruns of _Jeopardy_. He was a fine guardian, of course. Gaius said he’d buy whatever food Merlin liked and let him decorate his bedroom any way he wanted. The house itself was pretty big, even though Merlin knew it was average. It was twice the size of their house in Ealdor, and Merlin’s room here was bigger than the sitting room back home.

To say Merlin missed his mom was an understatement. This morning, he’d taken a bus five hours to Camelot, which was farther than he’d ever been from Ealdor in his life. Tomorrow, Merlin would be starting at a new school where he would absolutely nobody. 

The thought was exhilarating. A school where no one would shout “ _Freak!”_ and shove him in the halls. A school where the teacher’s wouldn’t crinkle their noses in distaste when they read “Merlin Emrys” on the roster. 

Gaius had microwaved them a frozen pizza for dinner, which they ate at a foldable plastic table. It was clear that Gaius did not normally keep a regular dining schedule, and the table was dragged out of storage and haphazardly placed in the kitchen. The pizza was rubbery and made Merlin long for his mother’s cooking.

“So, Merlin,” His uncle began, attempting to cut the pizza with a knife and fork (failing miserably,) “What would you like to do?”

“Well, I’d like to get a good night’s rest, for sure.” Merlin responded immediately, not intending to sound so sarcastic. 

“I mean with your future, Merlin.” Gaius dead panned, giving his nephew a well-practiced look of exasperation. 

“Oh, that.” Merlin pondered the question. It wasn’t as though no one had ever asked him before. (Well, the teachers stopped asking after the tenth time Merlin took apart a pen and spilled ink all over the carpet.) He had some vague ideas. University always seemed like a long shot, but that was mostly because so few kids back home ended up graduating. Trade school would be fine too, he thought. The big problem with Merlin’s future was that he wasn’t good enough at anything to warrant a career in it. Everything he tried always failed spectacularly and got him in trouble. He was good with math, but writing proved to be a problem. He liked science thematically, but science classrooms meant accidents and disasters. 

“I’m not sure that I know.”

“Well, you must have some ideas.” Gaius pressed. 

“I really don’t.” Merlin took another bite, desperate to stop speaking. The subject was growing uncomfortable. “I’m not particularly good at anything.”

“Hunith said you did well in your math classes.” _Yes_ , Merlin thought bitterly, _because there’s a ton of money in math._ It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about pursuing math before, he had. It was just that he didn’t enjoy academia enough to go to college. He didn’t want to be a teacher, because in his experience, teachers were miserable bastards. 

“I did. I like math okay. Just don’t want a career in it.” Gaius frowned, as if this were not the answer he was expecting. “I don’t like teachers and I don’t want to be one.”

“Merlin,” Gaius spoke slowly, staring intensely at his nephew. “I don’t think your experience with school is the standard. I think Camelot will be different.”

It was then that Merlin discovered that Gaius, for all that he appeared as a sweet old man, was equally sharp and manipulative. He made Merlin promise not only to go to school tomorrow with an open mind, but to sign himself up as math tutor. (“You can’t say you’re not good at something you haven’t tried.”) 

After dinner, Merlin went up to his room. The walls were stark white, and completely empty as Merlin’s old room wasn’t big enough for decorations. It was strange, laying on what was definitely the nicest mattress Merlin had ever seen. He was more comfortable then he’d ever been in his own bed, but he felt sadder than he had in a long time. He couldn’t hear the sounds of his mother turning pages in her nursing textbooks in the sitting room, her sighs in frustration. He knew that in the morning, he wouldn’t leave his room to find her passed out on the table, having worked all night. So far, Camelot, even though it was four times the size of Ealdor, was deeply isolating. 

_

The first half of the school day went poorly by normal standards. Merlin slept horribly the night before but maintained that he should get there an hour early, so he walked the half mile miserably at five in the morning. Of course, he took a few wrong turns due to his uncle’s handwritten (completely illegible) directions. He had already missed the first two hours by the time he found his way to the school. 

He finally arrived, convinced that today was going to be just as bad the rest of his first days. He walked into the front office, and was pleasantly surprised to see that the assistant at the front desk was not a middle-aged woman ready to scold him for tardiness, but rather, a girl his own age. She sat with her legs propped up on her chair, reading the book in her lap intently. Her hair was dark and curly, tied into a neat bun. Her name tag read “Gwen,” spelled out in neat, cursive letters. She was quite pretty, Merlin thought, as he walked over to her desk. She seemed someone Merlin could be friends with. 

“Hi, how can I help you?” She asked, looking up from her book and attempting to assume a more professional posture. 

“I’m really sorry,” Merlin began, partly for his tardiness but mostly out of habit. “But today was supposed to be my first day but I got lost on the way here because my uncle might be the worst navigator I’ve ever met. And I think he remembered to enroll me but honestly, I’m not feeling too sure about it now. He said he would try to come down with me today but then he got called into work and-” Merlin paused, realizing he was babbling and Gwen had only blinked at him in response. 

“And sorry. I tend to get ahead of myself.” He added, hoping he hadn’t already overwhelmed her too much.

“No worries at all.” Gwen beamed at him. “Now, this is only my first day as an office aide so I don’t really know how to check your enrollment status, but I can go get someone.” She got up from her seat, and flashed Merlin a reassuring smile. “Hang tight, I’ll be right back.”

Merlin chewed his lip nervously as he stood in the office, feeling unsure about whether or not to sit and if him being late was a big deal. He was hoping that Gaius had remembered to enroll him in the first place because Merlin had no idea how to do that himself. In Ealdor, at least, there were only three schools. No one had to double check your enrollment--either you were going to school or dropping out. 

Gwen returned, followed by an old woman with kind eyes. Her name tag said “Alice,” and beneath it Merlin could make out the title of “Student Counselor.”

“So, Gwen tells me you’re unsure if you were enrolled ?” She starts, motioning for Merlin to follow her into her office.

“Yes, ma’am.” His past teachers were very adamant about the whole “sir” and “ma’am” thing. (Merlin always suspected it was a power trip sort of thing.)

“Well, aren’t you polite, dear. What’s your name?” She asks sweetly, and Merlin can’t help but hesitate to answer. Back home, there was baggage with his name. It was associated with years of accidental fire alarms, mid-day trips to the ER, and destroyed computers. 

“Merlin. Merlin Emrys.” He answers, bracing himself for a backlash that wasn’t coming. Alice didn’t flinch or crinkle her nose in disgust, she just kept typing furiously on the keyboard. 

“Hmmm. Well Merlin, it looks like your enrollment was finished, but your schedule was never finalized.” 

“Okay.” He let out a sigh of relief, thankful that Gaius had remembered. It was comforting to know that he wasn’t completely alone in this enormous city.

“Alright, so I’m looking at your transcripts from your last school.” There was a funny tone to Alice’s voice that told Merlin she had found his behavioral records. He knew that she was reading about fire alarms and emergency rooms just from the way she raised her eyebrows. Merlin sunk down further in the chair, hoping it would swallow him whole and that he wouldn’t have to go to another school ever again. 

“Well.” Alice said, turning to face him with a new, softer expression. “Ealdor is a very small town, I presume?”

“Around 5,000 people.” Merlin nodded.

“I’ve never heard of it but I myself grew up in a small town. I know how news can get a little...distorted as it travels. And I know that people are not kind to those who are different.”

If Merlin started to cry right then and there, he wouldn’t admit it. But there were tears in his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time any adult other than his mom had said something so kind to him. 

“Why don’t we put all of that behind you and get started on your new schedule.” Merlin nodded furiously, not trusting himself to speak. If he did speak, his voice was sure to crack.

“So I see you’ve done very well in your math classes.” 

“My uncle thinks I should apply for a tutor position.” Merlin added, summoning all the composure he could. Alice beamed at him, and Merlin was painfully reminded of his mother’s smile.

“That’s a wonderful idea. I think my assistant knows one of the boys in that program. I’m sure she’d be happy to acquaint you two.”

They spent the next twenty minutes discussing what classes Merlin should take and what he should expect from Camelot High. She even gave him a map of the city, with a highlighted route for him to take to campus. It was by far the most productive and uplifting experience in school Merlin had had in a long time. 

The only downside was that Merlin had missed the entire school day. Gwen said that she would come back to the office at the end of the day to introduce him to her friend who did tutoring. Merlin spent around half an hour waiting after the final bell rang, stressing about whether or not she would actually come back. 

“Merlin!” Gwen, panting, burst through the office doors, followed by a taller girl with long dark hair. “Sorry I was late! We had history last and Morgana didn’t believe me when I said I had to go back to the office to introduce you to Lance. And then she didn’t believe me when I said Lance was a tutor and that turned into a twenty minute argument. And then we had to run across the school to get back here because I remembered-” She took a deep breath, “-that you were waiting.”

“Oh that’s okay! I don’t mind!” Merlin said enthusiastically, feeling pleased that Gwen seemed to ramble as much as he did. They could definitely be good friends. Her sunny disposition would be a strange, but welcome, change of pace from Will’s cynicism. The girl that stood next to Gwen, presumably Morgana, seemed to have the exact opposite energy as Gwen. She was cool and pulled off the detached apathy that Merlin tried so hard to emulate.

Morgana didn’t speak once as they walked through the halls. Not that she could’ve, seeing as Gwen didn’t stop talking the entire time. She told Merlin about how this was her’s and Morgana’s first day too, but they’ve known all the kids here for ages. She talked about her boyfriend a lot, who was apparently the only freshman on the varsity soccer team. Everytime Gwen used the word “boyfriend,” Morgana’s frown would deepen. Merlin surmised that whoever Gwen was dating, Morgana did not like him one bit. 

They reached their destination at the end of the hall and Gwen cracked open the door to the classroom. There were four kids sitting in the middle of the room, gathered around an old man wearing a red blazer. Gwen leaned knocked on the wall and loudly whispered “Lance!” 

Almost immediately a boy with a mess of curly hair spun around and grinned at Gwen. He fell out of the chair, clamoring to greet them in the hall. Merlin assumed this must be Gwen’s boyfriend. 

“Hey!” He said, shutting the door behind him. “What’s going on?”

“Lance! This is Merlin, he’s new and he’s interested in tutoring.” Lance deflated a little at this, but held a hand out to Merlin anyways.

“Pleasure to meet you.” He smiled, shaking Merlin’s hand firmly. 

“Hey so, Arthur just texted that he got out of practice early so I’m gonna go meet up with him. I’ll see you guys later!” Gwen says, putting her phone back in her bag. Merlin watched as Lance gave Morgana a distinct look that told him Lance was definitely not Gwen’s boyfriend. 

“It was nice meeting you Merlin! Good luck tomorrow!” Gwen shouts, giddily running down the hall.

“Okay, I guess I’ll just…” Morgana trails off, staring after Gwen, “...walk home by myself then.”

“If you’re cool sticking around,” Lance sighed, looking at Merlin apologetically. “I can go with you.”

“Yeah, I guess. Kilgharrah creeps me out though so I’ll be in the library. Meet me when you’re done?” Morgana mumbled and adjusted the messenger bag on her shoulder. She turned down the hall, in the opposite direction that Gwen left. 

“Sorry about that. Things have been a little off lately.” Lance smiled at Merlin sheepishly. “But you wanna tutor?” 

Merlin nodded, caught somewhere between wanting to be friends with this new group of people and feeling terrified of their awkwardness.

“Good, we could use the help.” Lance pushed open the door and led Merlin into the classroom.

Kilgharrah was an old man who ran the tutoring program, whose eccentricity had Gaius beat. He must be at least seventy years old, wearing a three piece scarlet suit, complete with a matching fedora. He spent the next hour telling the five students signed up to be tutors that he wasn’t going to let them slack off, and that just because they were book smart didn’t mean they were intelligent. He went on a brief tangent about growing up in the hard streets of Camelot and pulled out a dental implant halfway through a monologue, just for shock value. He was terrifying and chaotic, and infinitely cooler than any teacher Merlin had ever met before. 

When they were finally let out of the classroom, Morgana was sitting by the door. 

“Took you long enough. Can we go now?” She asked bitterly. 

“Yeah we can go.” Lance turned to Merlin. “Would you care to join us, Merlin? I’m just walking her home but I wouldn’t mind the company on the way home.” 

Merlin realized quite suddenly that he was almost sure to fall hopelessly in love with Lance by the end of the year. He was handsome beyond belief, with one of the most gorgeous smiles Merlin had ever seen. He spoke like a Victorian gentleman and wasn’t predisposed to hate Merlin on sight. So, really, he was perfect. 

“If I wouldn’t be intruding…” Merlin replied, glancing at Morgana. 

“Not at all. Let’s go.”

Morgana, who Merlin had originally thought was a quiet sort of person, ranted the entire way to her house. 

“It’s always ‘Arthur-this’ and ‘Gwen-that’ and it’s like we’re not even here!” Arthur, Merlin learned, was Morgana’s brother who had recently started dating Gwen.

“They’re just figuring it out. Things will be normal soon.” Lance was a fairly unflappable person. He seemed to take everything in stride, even though Merlin could tell he was hopelessly in love with Gwen. This, of course, threw a wrench in Merlin’s future crush on him. 

“What if they’re there when I get home?” Morgana lamented. “What if they’re there doing _things.”_ At that, Lance’s expression shifted to one of disgust, the first time he’d outwardly shown any strong emotion. 

“They’ll be at Gwen’s. You know she hates your house.” Morgana nodded as they approached a large, (quite obviously) wealthy apartment building with an ornate gate at the entrance. 

“You better be right, du Lac. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“See you tomorrow, Morgana.”

“Bye, Merlin.” She added and pushed the gate open. 

They waited until they could the elevator doors close on her before walking again. 

“So Merlin, where do you live?” Wordlessly, Merlin handed Lance the map Alice printed out. 

“Okay, that’s not too far. I can walk you if you’d like. To make up for the last fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks, but I think I can make it.” Merlin felt strange about how nice Lance was--it seemed like he was constantly being taken advantage of. 

“No, please. I could use the exercise.” A part of Merlin wanted to respond ‘ _You really couldn’t’_ seeing as that Lance had the physique of professional athlete. 

“Alright. I could use the company.” Merlin replied instead. 

They set out walking through the city, which was a relatively new experience for Merlin. The busy streets of Camelot were a dramatic change of pace from the sleepiness of Ealdor. He told Lance as much as they trekked through the streets. 

“It’s bizarre, how much bigger everything is here.”

“I know what you mean,” Lance laughs, “I grew up here so it doesn’t seem that unusual. But it does always freak me out that Arthur’s apartment is four times the size of my house.”

Despite only having seen Lance interact with Morgana, Merlin figured out that the two of them weren’t that close at all. Lance was more Arthur’s friend, but he’s been seeing more of Morgana lately. 

“Arthur’s a good guy though,” Lance continues, “even if he grew up ridiculously wealthy.”

“But he’s dating Gwen.” Merlin said slowly.

Arthur seemed to be a rather polarizing character. He was all Gwen, Morgana, and Lance had talked about in the few hours Merlin’s known them. Despite Lance’s assurance of Arthur’s character, Merlin couldn’t help but have his doubts. Surely he couldn’t be _that_ oblivious of his friend’s feelings about his relationship with Gwen? Merlin couldn’t fathom dating anyone that Will had feelings for (not that that would ever be an issue.)

“Well, yeah. He is.”

“But you like Gwen.” Merlin had no idea what possessed him to be so bold and blurt out whatever assumptions he’d made in the past hour. 

“I-” Lance floundered for a minute, before whispering, “Is it that obvious?”

“No, not at all! I’m just used to noticing things like that.” Merlin responded, remembering how long it had taken him sort out his feelings for Gilli. 

“Okay, good. I mean, I’ve liked her for _years_. I think-I think I’m in love with her.”

“Oh shit.” Was all Merlin could say, because he was fourteen and couldn’t imagine being in love with anyone. 

“Why didn’t you tell Arthur?”

“It’s complicated,” Lance ran a hand through his curls, “Arthur’s my best friend. I want him to be happy. And if Gwen makes him happy, and if he makes her happy, then I’m fine with being miserable over it.”

“Well, that’s stupid.” There was no way Merlin would ever be okay with being miserable for Will’s sake, and they were practically brothers. “His happiness shouldn’t come before yours.”

“I don’t know. There’s something about Arthur.... It’s hard to describe. I’d do anything for him. It’s like, once he’s in your life, you can’t imagine living without him.”

Merlin had serious doubts about that, but Lance's proud expression suggested that he spoke nothing but the truth. 

“I know it sounds crazy, but you’ll get it when you meet him tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” 

“Well sure. Aren’t you gonna have lunch with us?” Lance turned to Merlin, smiling. Merlin couldn’t believe it. This was the best day of school he’s ever had, and he didn’t even attend a single class. He had three, possibly four, tentative friends which would be the most friends he’s ever had. Today boded well for Merlin’s future in Camelot.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur wasn’t sure what exactly Merlin found interesting about his name, but he knew it could be any number of things.

Uther begrudgingly agreed to drive Gwen home. The trip was short, but filled the most awkward silence imagineable. As soon as Gwen was safely up the stairs to her apartment, they drove off.  
“Thank you for driving her home.” Arthur says, even though Gwen had babbled about how grateful she was the entire way there.  
“I don’t like that you’re seeing that girl.” Is all Uther responds, keeping his eyes firmly trained on the road ahead.  
“I thought you liked Gwen. That’s why you let Morgana have her over all the time.” Arthur remembered countless times Uther had asked him not to bring Lance over, while Gwen was there as much as Morgana was.  
“She’s a fine acquaintance for your sister. She keeps Morgana distracted. But I don’t want you distracted.” He delivered this in the same, clipped tones that he used when speaking to lawyers on the phone. Arthur could feel his anger rising, a hot feeling working its way through his core.  
“I like her a lot.” Arthur took a deep breath, for there was no place for anger in this car. Anger was allowed on the soccer fields, and when someone was rude. Anger was not allowed in the face of his father, who could extinguish Arthur’s rage with half of a breath.  
“You need to focus on your studies. I would hate to have to pay for your continuing education.” It was the same threat, like always. It wasn’t a question of whether Arthur would be going to an elite university--it was a question of how he would get there. Of his own merit, or his father’s wallet.  
“Can we table this discussion for now, father?” Arthur asks, straightening his posture and setting his jaw in the mirror image of the man beside him.  
“For now.” Uther says, not sparing a glance at his son. “How was the first day of school?”  
“It was fine.” It had been a while since Uther inquired about such things. But then, it had been a while since the two of them had actually talked.  
“I heard Gaius has a nephew attending Camelot this year.” Uther looked over then, offering the change of subject with a half-smile.  
“I didn't think Gaius had any relatives here.” Arthur said smoothly, accepting the offer for what it was--an olive branch. Besides, he was mildly interested in the subject. Gaius and Uther had been friends since they were children. Arthur and Morgana had grown up calling him “uncle” and cherishing his sporadic visits. To Arthur’s knowledge, the Pendragons were the only family Gaius had.  
“He has a sister out in the country. Apparently she sent her son to live with him.”  
“That’s strange.” Arthur couldn’t remember seeing any new faces at school. Then again, Gwen had mentioned meeting a new kid at the office, but her description didn’t match anyone who could be related to Gaius. She spoke about a boy as clumsy as she was, whose friendly disposition was the opposite of Gaius’ stony demeanor. “Do you know his name?”  
Uther let out a breath of laughter, almost scoffing. “It was something like those hippies name their children. Marley, I think. Maybe Memphis.”  
“Huh.” Arthur couldn’t remember the name of the boy Gwen talked about. She always talks so much and so quickly that it’s hard to keep track of what she says. He’d taken recently to cutting her off with a kiss when he couldn’t track her train of thought any longer.  
They pulled into the parking garage under their building, and didn’t speak for the rest of the walk up to their floor.  
Arthur briefly pondered checking in on Morgana, since she had stormed into her room after school upon seeing Arthur and Gwen in the living room. He decided that he wasn’t willing to face both Uther’s and Morgana’s disapproval on the same night and went straight to his own bedroom down the hall.  
Anger consumed all of the Pendragons. But Morgana and Uther got angry in the same way. They were calm and cold, calculating just the right words to make Arthur feel terrible. When Arthur was angry, it was different. He was all shades of red, throwing blind punches into pillows and screaming. His father did do his fair share of yelling and breaking things in fits of rage, too. It’s just Arthur didn’t have the headspace for words when he was angry. Arthur couldn’t channel that anger into malice. His father and sister used rage as a weapon, but for Arthur, it was just an emotion.  
He was angry when he went to bed, just like he knew his family was too, quarantined in their own rooms. He was angry about Gwen, and why no one wanted him to be with her. He was angry at his father, for threatening to buy Arthur’s future, when so many of his friends didn’t have the option. He was angry at Lance, for not trying out for soccer and refusing to tell Arthur why.  
Thinking about Lance made Arthur’s anger swell into something unquenchable. He thrust a fist into a pillow, muffled a scream. He was furious at Lance for shutting him out these past two months. For disappearing throughout the week and taking up that stupid tutoring position instead of soccer.  
Somewhere too, Arthur was furious at himself for not getting any of it right. He started dating Gwen because he liked her, and she liked him. He thought his father would be pleased that he was dating someone with such strong character and morality. He thought Morgana would be secretly happy for him, and Lance would congratulate him. Instead, they were all mad at him, or distant in Lance’s case.  
Sometimes it felt like Arthur couldn’t do anything right. He’d spent seven years making sure Uther had coffee by seven in the morning, making sure that Morgana felt welcome in their house despite Uther’s relationship with her mother. He tried so hard to help Lance, who never wanted to be helped. Gwen was the first thing in Arthur’s life that was going well, and everyone hated him for it.  
He fell asleep, after hours of bitterly trying to find a course of action. In his dreams, he took Gwen on a picnic in the countryside. They spent what felt like hours laughing and talking. The dream took a strange turn, though, when Arthur handed her a bouquet of daisies he’d picked from the meadow behind them. Her face darkened when she saw the flowers, and she slapped hard across the face. When he woke up, Arthur could still feel the sting.  
_  
 _The way Sir Kay’s sword met Arthur’s was absolutely delicious. There was no other way to describe it. The shriek of blades dragging against one another was so good, so satisfying it gave Arthur chills. He loved the way shields collided, with a hollow clang that echoed throughout the arena. As a boy, he would lie in the grass just outside the practice grounds, closing his eyes and listening. But actually fighting was so much better._  
 _For all of Arthur’s boyhood fantasies about being knight, nothing could compare to the real thing. He was sixteen and there was something so hotly enjoyable about being a knight after years of pining for it. Arthur relished every minute of sparring. He felt gloriously important with his own set of armor now, and finally having the validation of his own red-scarlet cape._  
 _“Take it easy, princeling!” Leon shouted gruffly across the field._  
 _“Don’t be such a fishwife, Leon!” Arthur countered, bringing up his sword behind his back to counter Kay’s shield. The spar continued on in silence, when Leon shifted focus to his own match with Sir Pellinore._  
 _Arthur felt like he could do this forever. The thought of endless sword fight sounded better than anything else in the world. Arthur’s mind was sharp, taking note of every single move Kay made, every slight shift in the set of his jaw. Arthur’s reflexes were even sharper, instinctually moving to counter each hit, to drive each movement forward, forward, onto a path he couldn’t see the end of._  
 _Arthur wouldn’t have any idea how to explain it, but when he was fighting, he wasn’t alone. There was something inside of him, something hot and flammable, that made his movements for him. He didn’t have to think about where his sword would go, what his feet were doing. He moved like water, gracefully adapting to whatever the battle called for. This was right, natural for Arthur. There was no thought required to it, just pure instinct._  
 _Kay’s breathing deepened, and became frantic as his movements slowed down. But Arthur kept his pace. Arthur realized it, too. He realized that he needed to stop, to slow down. Let Kay catch his breath. But he couldn’t stop no matter how hard he tried. His body kept moving, kept driving forward, forward, forward-_  
 _Until Kay hits the ground, and the tip of Arthur’s sword collides with his shield._  
_  
For the first time in four years, Arthur woke up late. It was an hour past the start of his first class and Morgana’s bed was empty. There were fifteen messages from Gwen on his cell phone.  
 _-Where are you?_  
 _-Are you okay?_  
 _-Morgana said you were still sleeping when she left._  
 _-Did something happen between you guys?_  
He didn’t bother reading the rest. Gwen texted exactly how she spoke, which made it difficult to respond to any part of what she was saying.  
 _-I’m fine. Just woke up late. I’ll be there by second hour._  
Arthur typed back slowly, groggily, maybe even slightly guiltily.  
Today he decided to wear his ancient (lucky) red sweater that his father gave to him when Morgana’s mother died.  
Vivienne had knitted it for Uther when they first started going out, blissfully unaware that he was married to Arthur’s mother. When she died, Uther took a three year old Morgana into their house, finally owning up to his own actions. Morgana moving in meant ridding the house of all Vivienne’s leftover trinkets. But Arthur, only a toddler at the time, was quite taken with the softness of the sweater. He swore he could feel the love that was put into every stitch. (Secretly, Arthur liked to pretend that it was his own mother who knitted it with such affection, instead of Morgana’s.) So, Uther begrudgingly gave it to him. Today, Arthur would need the strange comfort it brought him.  
There were glass shards all over the floor of the kitchen. Arthur could see the frame of the shattered french press a good three feet from the counter. The bag of coffee beans was spilled on the granite. As he surveyed the damage, the remnants of Uther’s rage, Arthur texted Gwen.  
 _-Better make that third hour._  
As Arthur swept up the fragments, he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of man his father was at work. Did he throw things when his employees made mistakes? Or was it the other side of his anger that manifested? Would an employee show up late, wait hours for consequences, only to be called into Uther’s office at the end of day? Would Uther fire them outright or make them feel like such an outsider in the company that they’d have no choice but to quit? Arthur wondered what tactic his father was using on him.  
He cleaned up the glass quickly, and could have gone straight to school. But in a sickeningly Uther-like way, Arthur didn’t feel right without having caffeine in the morning either. He made himself a batch of drip coffee using their ancient percolator that was the height of technology in Arthur’s childhood. He poured it into a disposable cup, taking it black, exactly as his father does.  
_  
The walk to school wasn’t terrible. It was around fifteen minutes, which was more pleasant than the half hour trek to their junior high. It let him walk through the city, which was comforting. He liked feeling like he was a part of Camelot--walking through its veins like any other citizen. He liked walking past the ordinary people, the people who’ve lived here for generations. It made Arthur feel like one of them, instead of the agent of gentrification that he was.  
Despite the cacophony of people walking past him, the hum of public transport, and the periodic car horns sounding in the streets, the walk to school was peaceful. At least it was peaceful when people remembered to look where they were going.  
The impact of the stranger walking directly into Arthur was jarring, to say the least. The boiling hot coffee that spilled out of Arthur’s travel mug onto his (favorite) sweater was infuriating.  
“Fuck!” Arthur hissed, breathing in sharply from the burn of the coffee. “Watch where you’re going, asshole!”  
“Oh, shit I’m so sorry sir!” Arthur turned his irate gaze to the asshole, who was a boy that looked a little younger than Arthur himself. “I didn’t mean to, I just got this map, you see-” The boy waved a (now coffee-stained) paper map in front of him. “And I’m having trouble navigating. I am so sorry though. If there’s anything I can-”  
“Just. Stop talking.” Arthur said, examining the damage to his sweater. This kid could talk almost as much as Gwen.  
“Okay, um.” The kid began away, clearly unable to follow basic instructions. “Could you perhaps point me in the direction of Camelot High School?” He finished meekly.  
“Oh, fuck off.” Arthur practically growled, angry more at his own sour luck than the boy in front of him. “You’ve got to be kidding.”  
The boy gave Arthur a once-over, probably noting Arthur’s age and the school bag strung across his back. A flicker of understanding crossed his face.  
“Can I please walk with you?” He pleaded, making his blue eyes impossibly wide. It’s not like Arthur could have even said no, the kid would just follow him to school anyways.  
“Fine.” Arthur bit back, feeling angry at everything and wishing that feeling didn’t make him feel like his father.  
“Thank you.” He said, grinning in a way that made Arthur want to simultaneously smile back and insult him. “I’m Merlin.”  
“Oh.” Merlin. That was the name of Gwen’s new kid. Which sounded a lot like Marley or Marin, whatever his father had said Gaius’ nephew was named.  
“What do you mean ‘oh?’” Merlin said indignantly, almost childlike. Arthur was deeply upset at this revelation. Gwen seemed quite taken with Merlin, having spent a good hour talking about him yesterday. This, of course, meant Merlin was going to infiltrate their tight knit group and ruin everything.  
“You’re Gaius’ nephew then?” Arthur said, actually looking at Merlin this time. He was a scrawny kid, with a physique similar to Arthur’s when he was twelve. Of course, Arthur had since grown into his body, bulking up from playing soccer.  
Merlin’s hair was thick, messier and darker than Lance’s. He wore a dark blue sweatshirt with a pair of ridiculously torn jeans. (Arthur couldn’t help but remember how Uther had filed a complaint with Camelot High over the summer regarding their new, progressive dress code.)  
“You know Gaius?”  
“He’s a family friend. I’m Arthur Pendragon.” On principle, Arthur didn’t want to extend his hand, but the habit was so ingrained that muscle memory took over. He didn’t want to be civil with Merlin after the morning he’s had, after Merlin destroyed his most prized article of clothing. Merlin’s lips quirked up in a strange smile, and he shook Arthur’s hand exactly how Arthur would expect a country boy to shake hands--weakly, without a firm grasp and without any real motivation.  
“Interesting.” Arthur wasn’t sure what exactly Merlin found interesting about his name, but he knew it could be any number of things. “Pendragon as in Pendragon Insurance?” was the most popular response. The older people would always ask “Ygraine Pendragon’s boy?” remembering a fifteen year old news cycle regarding a disease that couldn’t be detected and therefore couldn’t be cured. Merlin didn’t elaborate, though.  
“Do you know Gaius well?” He asked instead.  
“I mean, I’ve known him since birth.” Arthur responded, glad that he didn’t have to justify his father’s name to one more stranger. “But I don’t like know him know him.”  
“Okay.” Merlin seemed pleased with his response. “How come you’re late for school?”  
“Reasons.” Arthur grit his teeth. He had hoped Merlin wouldn’t be a nosy one on top of being so obnoxious.  
“Wow, that was so clarifying. Thanks.”  
“Oh shut up. According to my girlfriend, this is your second day showing up late.” Arthur backfired, ignoring the urge to laugh at Merlin’s dead pan (which hilariously reminiscent of Gaius.)  
“Oh forgive me for not having memorized the entire layout of the city. My hometown only had two roads.”  
“Don’t exaggerate. It’s not becoming.” Arthur found himself trying not to laugh again and instead, trying to hold onto his anger from earlier. It seemed to be fading, in spite of the coffee drying cold against his torso.  
“No!” Merlin pressed. “I mean it. We only had two major roads-- Main street and Ealdor Road. The highway runs along some of the farms on the eastern side of town, but all the buildings were on that one intersection.”  
There was a distinct longing in the way Merlin said this, like he was desperate to say it. Arthur realized that Merlin wasn’t actually babbling, not like Gwen does. There was a reason behind his words, and that held Arthur’s attention.  
“Bullshit. You people from the country always make it out like you’re living in the Dark Ages.”  
“Oh, believe me. It’s that bad.” Merlin laughed, and it was infectious, loosening something in Arthur’s chest. “All the farms are along Ealdor Road, which only has street lights for the two miles on either side of the main intersection. The rest of it was pitch black at night. Me and my friend Will would ride our bikes up this massive hill at the edge of town, and the cars wouldn’t be able to see us at all.”  
“Sounds fun.” Arthur felt a twinge of jealousy at how perfect that memory sounded. It sounded like the reckless teenage experience Arthur had wanted all of his life. Merlin seemed to have it so casually, while Arthur had to fight for memories of driving to gas stations on his birthday. He thought about how his father would scream at him if Arthur and Morgana had done something as dangerous as riding bikes where cars could easily hit them.  
“Oh, it was great.” Merlin began with a far away look, “I mean we had to stop after I got hit but it made for some good memories.”  
“You got hit?” Arthur exclaimed, facing Merlin with an incredulous expression. Getting hit by a car wasn’t something people talked about casually, like it’s an everyday occurance.  
“Yeah,” Merlin straightened his messenger bag on his shoulder. “It wasn’t so bad though. Their engine was stalling so it was only like twenty five miles per hour.”  
Arthur didn’t respond, instead staring intently at the cluster of scars peeking out of Merlin’s shirt at the base of his shoulder.  
“Still broke my collar bone, though.” Merlin remarked, completely unaware of Arthur’s lack of response.  
Camelot High was at the end of this block, and Arthur couldn’t remember if fifteen minutes had ever gone by that quick before.  
_  
 _“What the hell was that, Arthur?” Leon’s voice thundered through the armory, making the metal of the weapons resonate, with a tinny sound. The combination of Leon’s yelling and the rattling armor only made Arthur feel smaller._  
 _“I don’t know.” He whispered, seeing images of Kay’s eyes, wide and panicked in the face of Arthur’s sword._  
 _“What?” The weapons spoke for Leon this time, with a burst of metallic sound, almost like a waterfall._  
 _“I said I don’t know!” And isn’t it funny how the metal stops speaking with Arthur’s voice? Like it sensed the sheer distress there and decided that he didn’t need the backup._  
 _“Sometimes I don’t know what I’m doing!” He shouted at Leon’s confused face as the tears, those damned traitors, welled up in his eyes. “Sometimes I’m sixteen, even if I am the Prince! I don’t know how far to push things! It’s like I’ve been waiting my whole life to prove that I can be good. But I can’t when I have to think so much about every little thing!_  
 _“I can’t leave my room without knowing where I’m going, I can’t leave Camelot without a million knights ready to sell me out as soon as I do anything remotely dangerous! I’m supposed to be this great warrior and defend the kingdom, but I can’t even climb a tree without getting in trouble!” Arthur kept yelling even when his voice was raw and the tears were dripping into his mouth. It was ugly and unbecoming for a prince, but Arthur hasn’t cried in four years. He hasn’t yelled like this once in his whole life._  
 _“I can’t kiss a girl without thinking of the scandal! God forbid if I have feelings for her! I’m supposed to marry someone I love, but he has to pick her out for me, too! I’m supposed to do all these things and be a good boy, a good prince, a good king! But he doesn’t care if I’m a good man on top of it all!” Arthur sunk to the ground, with a deep shuddering breath. He didn’t notice Leon moving close to him, or feel a pair of strong arms wrap around him as he shook._  
 _“I have to come first, I have to be the one to do everything and know what to do without asking.” Arthur whispered, choking on the tears and spit in his throat. “I don’t get it. No one is supposed to help me. I have to help myself, I have to be stronger than everyone else. But then he says I can’t do things myself because that’s servants’ work? What does he want? What does he want from me?”_  
 _Arthur shivered in Leon’s arms. He might have been sixteen and six feet tall, but he looked like a child then, innocent and broken. Leon held Arthur firmly, and his mind was flooded with memories of a six year old wearing a crown around his neck with a toothy grin. A ten year old as pale as death shivering under red-scarlet duvets. A twelve year beaming, as he spat blood onto the forest floor. A fifteen year old drinking wine straight from the bottle in his room, already holding himself with the proud stature of a king._  
 _There is nothing you can say to someone whose life has been a rigid path since birth. Someone who has never made a single choice that wasn’t already set in stone. Leon felt lucky then, as he cradled his closest friend, that he was free. He was free from the universe’s clutches, while Arthur’s life would always be ruled by destiny’s unyielding hand._


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin did have to admit that there was something intriguing about Arthur. Not intriguing enough to counteract how oblivious he was about his friends' feelings, though.

As much as it pained Merlin to admit it, he liked Arthur. It was almost comical, the lengths that Arthur went to to let Merlin know that he was still angry. He scowled for the duration of their conversation, snapping back his responses, and feigning complete disinterest. The entire time, of course, Merlin felt ridiculously giddy that he agreed to walk with Merlin in the first place. 

It was an unnecessary act of kindness. One that balanced Arthur’s initial rudeness and excessive swearing. He also didn’t have to talk to Merlin on the walk, his feigned irritation would have much more believable if he stubbornly walked in silence. Instead, he asked Merlin about Ealdor and shook his hand in formal greeting (which Merlin didn’t know if that was a Camelot thing or just something Arthur and his friends did.) He certainly didn’t have to show Merlin where his next class was, and point out that they had their last three classes together. The thing that really threw a wrench in Arthur’s pretend anger, though, was when he said “I guess I’ll be seeing you at lunch, then?” in the sorriest attempt at meanness Merlin had ever seen. 

They had just made it in time for their third class, with Arthur sprinting up the stairs to Geometry and Merlin nervously strolling down the hall to his chemistry class. Thoughts of Arthur consumed Merlin’s mind as he sat down at the desk, blissfully forgetting that this was a science class and what that would entail. 

Alice had decided to place Merlin in an advanced science course on account of his math skills, going against all of Merlin’s protests. Most of the students around Merlin looked like upperclassmen, except for one boy at the back of the class who looked even younger than Merlin. 

“Okay, cool.” The woman at the front of the room spoke with a thick country accent. Merlin couldn’t quite place where, but he knew it had to be at least twenty miles south of Ealdor. She looked like a pretty standard country woman, like Merlin’s own mother, save for the sleeves of tattoos running up her arms. Her long blonde hair was tied into braid and her lab coat was painted with forests and coastal scenes. 

“Hi, class.” She said, drawing out the words and rolling her eyes. “For those of you who don’t know me, I am Ms. Isolde and somehow, I am the only chemistry teacher on campus. So if you’ve heard the horror stories about this course, they’re about me.”

Merlin swallowed nervously, already dreading what this class had in store for him. 

“This class isn’t easy, that’s why most of you had to take three other sciences, a lot with me, before this class. And if you’ll notice, we have a couple freshmen in here because Alice doesn’t know what she’s doing.” Merlin felt himself blushing and pulled his hood up over his head, trying to hide himself away from view. 

“But I’m willing to work with you…” Ms. Isolde kept speaking, but the blood rushing in Merlin’s was drowning her out. He had no idea why he let Alice talk him into this class. He needed to learn that just because an adult was nice to him they didn’t have his best interests at heart. 

He couldn’t help but feel like Camelot wasn’t going to be any different from Ealdor. Sure, there were some people who didn’t hate Merlin yet, but he was still sitting at the back of a classroom while a teacher told him he wasn’t going to pass this class. 

Third hour was over as soon as it began and Merlin was finding his way to the cafeteria, frantically looking for someone familiar. He made eye contact with Morgana across the hallway and smiled hopefully. She rolled her eyes, but pushed her way towards him through the crowd.

“I’m not a mean person, you know.” She said once they fell into stride together.

“I never said you were mean.” Merlin replied immediately. 

“Yesterday was a bad day for me. I’m not that mean or cynical normally. I didn’t know you were going to come with us and I needed to vent before I got home.”

“Why are you telling me this?” She sounded like she was defending herself from accusations that Merlin never made. He wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. 

“Because you’re about to meet him and I don’t want you to get sucked up into his stupid charm and tell him everything I said yesterday.” 

Morgana said this like it was inevitable that Merlin would betray her like that, despite only knowing him for one day. It was kind of sad, how overshadowed Morgana felt by her brother. Having met both of them, Merlin did have to admit that there was something intriguing about Arthur. Not intriguing enough to counteract how oblivious he was about his friends' feelings, though. 

“I swear on my life that I will not tell him anything you said yesterday.” 

“Okay, good.” Morgana seemed pleased at this, but obviously still on edge. 

“Besides, I’ve already met him.”

“When? He only got here like an hour ago.” Her head whipped around to face Merlin in disbelief. 

“I might’ve spilled coffee all over him on the walk here.” Merlin said sheepishly, still feeling a little bad over the whole affair. He felt less bad, though, since Morgana looked absolutely delighted by this information. 

“That was you? I already like you more than I thought I would.” She led the way to the table where Lance was sitting with an upperclassman, while Merlin tried to figure out whether that was an insult.

“Merlin!” Lance exclaimed, smiling. “Glad to see you made it here alive!” 

Merlin wasn’t about to joke about how he was still late today when Arthur sat down heavily on Lance’s right. 

“He almost didn’t.”

“Oh, you two have met then?” Gwen sat down, strangely, across from Lance rather than next to Arthur. 

“Unfortunately.” Merlin still couldn’t help but laugh at Arthur’s dejection. He was trying so painfully hard not to like Merlin. 

“Be nice, Arthur. He had a rough day yesterday.” Gwen’s voice was rather soothing when she wasn’t speaking ten words per second, Merlin thought. Not that he didn’t like her rambling, he found it rather endearing and comforting in its own way. 

They spent the rest of lunch chatting mindlessly, and telling Merlin the gossip on everyone in school. Gwen laughed so hard at one of Merlin’s jokes that she spit water all over Lance. It was kind of incredible, Merlin realized, how much easier it was to fit in here than in Ealdor. 

_

_ “You know I’ve got to say, being Arthur Pendragon’s personal servant isn’t as terrible as it sounds.” Merlin announced as he finally arrived back at Gaius’ chambers.  _

_ “Hmm?” Gaius’ voice called from the kitchen. “And why’s that?” _

_ “I don’t think he’s encountered humor before.” Merlin responded, taking a much needed seat at the table. When Gaius didn’t respond, and just kept eyeing a potion intently, Merlin didn’t continue.  _

_ He thought about the way Arthur resets his mouth every time Merlin makes a joke or sarcastic comment. How he’ll immediately call Merlin an idiot to hide his smile.  _

_ Of course, Arthur was still an insufferable prat who thought making Merlin walk laps around the castle running errands was amusing. He still insulted Merlin every chance he got, forcing Merlin further and further into the neat box of “Fool.” It wasn’t like Merlin didn’t set himself up for it anyways, by constantly trying to get Arthur to laugh. It was just that every time Arthur did laugh, every time Arthur let himself laugh, it was such an innocent sound. It reminded Merlin that Arthur was not just a prince, or a tyrant, but he was also only twenty years old and he was rarely allowed to be just that.  _

_ _ _

By some twist of fate, Merlin had every single class after lunch with Arthur. As they walked out of the cafeteria, Arthur tried to maintain his bad mood and failed miserably. If anything, his mood improved with each class they went to. He let Merlin sit with him in every single one, trying to hold in his laughter when Merlin made sarcastic comments under his breath. 

Their last class was English, and everytime the teacher mentioned a book they were going to be reading, Merlin whispered his full review to Arthur. 

“We’ll also be reading parts of _Little Women_ _.”_ She said and Merlin whispered “The movie’s better.” into Arthur’s ear. 

“ _ Great Expectations.” _

“The movie’s worse.” Merlin mumbled and Arthur pressed a hand over his mouth to stifle the laughter.

“And  _ The Scarlet Letter. _ ” At that, Merlin just imitated vomiting with a single expression. Arthur was shaking next to him, wheezing from trying so hard to be quiet. 

They left the class with the final bell, both breathless from holding in their laughter for so long. 

“You know Merlin,” Arthur said as they pushed open the double doors. 

“What?”

“I don’t like you.” Arthur said gravely, with a straight-face. 

“Hmm, really? Why’s that?” Merlin said, biting back a smile.

“Too many reasons to count, honestly.” Merlin had to admire Arthur’s commitment to the bit, how effortlessly he suppressed his laughter.

“Too many?”

“Well for one,” Arthur began anyways, “You spilled hot coffee all over me. You can’t read a map. You just weaseled your way into my day for no reason. And…” He trailed off.

“And what?” Merlin asked smugly.

“And your ears are huge.” Arthur finished and they both burst out laughing.

They met up with the girls at the front of the school, who both seemed equally happy. 

“What’s so funny?” Gwen asked. 

“Oh, Arthur’s just listing all the reasons why he hates me.” Merlin responded and Gwen looked slightly horrified. 

“Hmmm. Add ‘smarmy bastard’ to the list while you’re at it.” Arthur said.

“Sure thing, sire.” Merlin joked and this time it was Arthur’s turn to laugh. They spent the rest of the unofficial walk home coming up with reasons why Merlin hates Arthur. 

“Number fourteen,” Merlin pronounced, “is that you’re an utter clotpole.”

“What the hell is a clotpole?”

“In two words?” Arthur nodded. 

“Arthur Pendragon.” And then they were laughing again, breathlessly and not understanding exactly why they found each other so funny. 

“You guys are weird.” Morgana said, but even she was smiling. 

“I like it.” Gwen whispered to her, “He doesn’t laugh like that anymore.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Merlin is reluctantly invited to a party, and an Accident transpires

**_Two months later_ **

“If Merlin’s late again, I’m leaving without you guys.” Arthur grumbled, taking another sip of coffee. Early November in Camelot was needlessly cold, and Arthur’s sweater and button-down combination wasn’t anywhere near warm enough. (Not that he would ever admit needing any more than two layers in anything above sub-zero temperatures.)

Arthur and Morgana had started walking to school with Merlin, after he was late for the fourth day in a row that first week. When the rest of the group had teased him for not using a GPS, he waved his ancient flip phone in their faces. Since then, the three of them met up on the corner where Arthur had met Merlin initially, and they walked together. 

“Do we have to walk with him?” Arthur asked, still feeling frustrated from last night. Morgana had stormed out of the house after getting into another screaming match with their father. Arthur hadn’t been able to sleep until he heard her get back home safely. 

“It's been like two months, Wart. I thought you liked Merlin.”

“I do like him. He’s weird, though.” 

“He’s funny.” Morgana added, “He fits in well with us. You should invite him to Leon’s party.”

“Oh, don’t make me do that.” Arthur groaned. Leon was an upperclassman. The fact that he liked Arthur and Lance enough to invite them to his seventeenth birthday party was unbelievable. Arthur did not want to risk anything by letting Morgana bring Merlin, even if Arthur liked having him around. Their friendship was new and untested. Arthur was hesitant to give Merlin a place in his life, he hated increasing the number of people who had the potential to hurt him. Uther Pendragon valued loyalty above all, and made it clear to Arthur that the friends he made were bound to betray him at some point, unless he made the right choices. Arthur liked Merlin a lot, he was funny and strange, but he didn’t know if befriending Merlin was the right choice just yet. 

Morgana replied by scowling at the traffic in the streets. Cars honked obnoxiously, people pushed past each other on the sidewalks, and amid it all, was Merlin. He was sprinting, the shoelaces of his sneakers untied, messenger bag flailing behind him. 

“Sorry I’m late!” He said when he finally reached them. Morgana mumbled something similar to “late  _ again _ ” and started walking ahead of them. 

“I really am sorry.” Merlin whispered, taking larger steps to catch up to Arthur.

“Don’t mind her, things have been weird at home lately.” Arthur said, taking pity on Merlin. 

“I get it.” He said, and straightened out his blazer. Merlin, for whatever reason, insisted on wearing his ridiculously tattered jeans with t-shirts, and oddly enough, a formal blazer. It was a uniform, of sorts, that looked completely stupid (Arthur made sure to tell him at least once a day.)

“How’s Gaius?” Arthur asked after a beat of silence. Morgana had already put her headphones on, and walked two feet in front of them. Merlin didn’t answer right away, first groaning and running a hand through his (obnoxiously unbrushed) hair. 

“He’s fine. Controlling, though. It’s nice living in a big house, I guess. It’s just-” He sighed. “I get so bored and he thinks all time not spent studying is a waste. And I fucking hate studying.”

Arthur laughed, but felt a little guilty for not trying to hang out with Merlin since that first day they met. 

“You’ve been seeing Lance a lot though, right?” Arthur remembered a couple of times when he’d asked if Lance was busy to find he was with Merlin. 

“Yeah. He works a lot, though. Makes it hard.” 

Arthur didn’t actually know that Lance had a job, which upset him more than he cared to admit. Admittedly, Gwen took the forefront of Arthur’s mind, and his friendship with Lance had suffered because of it. But at least Merlin was there to distract Lance from what a bad friend Arthur had been. 

“A couple of us are going to our friend Leon’s party Friday night, if you wanna come with us.” Arthur finally asked, and Morgana spun around, clearly shocked (and clearly eavesdropping on them.) Merlin beamed at him, looking happier than Arthur had ever seen him. 

“I would love to!” He exclaimed, before coughing and adding a more casual, “If that’s alright.”

“Yeah, it’s alright.” Arthur grumbled. He wasn’t ready to give a final verdict on Merlin just yet. 

_

_ Merlin had been his manservant for almost a year before Arthur ever saw him drunk. There weren’t that many opportunities for nobles to see their servants under the influence. It was improper for servants to drink while working and frankly, most servants would rather die than spend their free time with masters. This, of course, Arthur knew well. The only people he’d ever gone to the tavern with were his knights, after long patrols and journeys. But princes shouldn’t spend their free time in the lower town--it was improper. So when Merlin asked if Arthur would go drinking with him, it was more than a shock.  _

_ “Don’t be an idiot, Merlin.” He’d said, trying to cover up the fondness that he’d gained for his manservant sometime in the last two months. At first, they were professional, maybe a little friendly with the teasing. But the longer they were around each other, the more difficult it was for Arthur to maintain that professional distance of master and servant. He was twenty years old and he’d never had a best friend before.  _

_ Sure, Leon was like the older brother he’d never had, but unlike Merlin, Leon knew where the line was. He knew that Arthur was different, that he couldn’t be treated the same as everyone else. Merlin knew this too, but somehow decided that he didn’t care. He talked to Arthur however he pleased, and didn’t touch him like he was a prince. Princes weren’t to be tapped or poked, they weren’t to be touched by anyone outside of battle. But Merlin flicked his arm whenever Arthur made a particularly insensitive joke, messed up Arthur’s hair when he dressed him, occasionally placed a hand on his shoulder in comfort. It didn’t make sense for someone to be so careless with Arthur. Then again, it didn’t make sense for Merlin to be Arthur’s favorite person precisely because he was so careless.  _

_ So, Arthur found himself at the tavern, with his servant at his side. The whole affair was strange, walking there together after dinner. No one would dare look at them strangely, but as they sat down in the tavern, the place’s entire atmosphere changed. Where people were laughing and talking, they were now silent and somber. It was awkward and Arthur felt heat rising to his cheeks. He shouldn’t be here.  _

_ But then Merlin started laughing and flagged down the barmaid.  _

_ “Probably should've expected that.” He said, and everyone seemed to turn their attention elsewhere. Arthur blinked, shocked at how easily Merlin diffused the tension. How easily he made everything feel somewhat normal. _

_

They didn’t see Merlin at lunch, which was strange but Gwen was the only one who was concerned about it. 

“Should I text him?” She bit her lip, worried, and Arthur laid a hand on her thigh, hoping to be comforting. 

“I’m sure he’s fine. Probably got lost on the way to the cafeteria.” He said, and then they all laughed and it was forgotten. 

Arthur did find it even stranger when he didn’t see Merlin in any of the last three classes they had together. He definitely wasn’t worried (Pendragons don’t get worried, thank you very much), but he was curious as to where the other boy was. 

At the end of day, Merlin wasn’t waiting outside the school to walk home with Arthur. Instead, Lance was leaning cooly against the side wall, with Gwen hovering near him, biting her lip furiously. 

Lance was already much taller and more muscular than Arthur, given he was almost a year older. Not that anyone could tell since his clothes were always baggy and never fit him right. Arthur knew he and his father pretty much shared the same wardrobe, despite being four sizes apart. The only article of clothing Lance owned that fit him right was a light denim jacket that he wore every single day, regardless of whatever else he was wearing. (It resulted in a lot of denim-on-denim combinations that made Arthur cringe.) 

“So, a bit of bad news.” Lance said, pushing himself off the wall. “Merlin had to go to the ER after second hour.” 

Gwen looked on the verge of tears, and Arthur went to wrap an arm around her shoulder.

“He’s fine. He just fell down the stairs on his way to his Chemistry class and broke his arm.” 

“Very on-brand.” Morgana added, seemingly unconcerned. 

Lance looked down at his phone and laughed. Arthur peered over his shoulder to see a picture of Merlin on a hospital bed, looking absolutely manic, grinning widely with tears streaming down his face. Lance scrolled and Arthur had to avert his eyes from the X-Ray of Merlin’s arm, which was disturbingly bent outward. He scrolled once more and the next photo was of Gaius, sleeping in a chair in a most unflattering position. 

“The doctor said he’ll be fine, but he has to stay at the hospital a little longer until they get some test results back.” Lance smiled, and held up his car keys. “I was thinking we could visit him?” 

They spent the next twenty minutes in traffic and arguing over the best route to the hospital. Then when they got to the hospital, Morgana pretended to be Merlin’s sister even though the nurse said friends were allowed to see him. 

“I can’t believe my brother is DEAD!” She shouted as they ran down the hall to Merlin’s room. “The agony!”

“Shut up you’re gonna get us kicked out!” Arthur hissed as they slowed to a walk when a nurse scowled at them. 

“Loosen up Wart, it’s not like he’s  _ actually _ dying.” She responded with a very cryptic wink. 

“I’m not fucking worried that he is.” Arthur defended. Besides, it wasn’t even like he and Merlin were  _ really  _ friends. Merlin was more Lance’s friend than any of them, even though he and Morgana liked the same music. Even though Arthur spent half the day with him and thought he was probably the funniest person in the world. 

They finally found his room and Morgana burst open the door, exclaiming “Oh, dearest brother! How soon the world has shut its doors on you!” 

The rest of them followed in after, and Arthur was completely clueless as to what caused such a dramatic shift in his sister’s mood. That was, until he saw Gaius hug her and kiss the top of her head fondly. She was always especially close to Gaius, and when he stopped coming over she was hurt the most.

Merlin smiled at them from the bed. Gwen immediately ran over to hug him and fuss over him. Lance tousled his hair and asked him a question about his cast, which was a horrendous shade of green. Arthur hovered in the doorway, unsure of his place here. Somehow, it felt like a test. If he moved past the doorway, he was choosing Merlin. He was opening that door, letting Merlin have a place in his life. He was giving someone else that chance to hurt him. Another part of Arthur’s mind reminded him that if he stayed, or if he didn’t choose, it meant he’d lose the chance to actually  _ be  _ friends with Merlin. So, he walked over to the bed, consciously deciding to give Merlin just a little bit of control of his life. Just a little bit.

“That is the ugliest cast I’ve ever seen.” Arthur said and Merlin laughed. He looked ridiculously small in the big hospital bed, in just a t-shirt. Arthur hadn’t noticed how pale he was before, since Merlin always wore long sleeves. His arms were long and skinny, there was an angry burn scar running up his right forearm. Arthur shuddered, thinking about what would’ve left such an intense mark.

“Hey, I have dedicated eight hours of my day to getting this stupid cast. I wasn’t very well going to be picky about the color.”

“To be fair,” Gaius offered from the chair in the corner of the room. “The first half was just going over your medical record.”

“Haha, Gaius. Very funny.” Merlin crossed his arms, or at least attempted to before hissing in pain. Gwen chided him for it, but Gaius only laughed. 

“You okay?” Lance asked, and Merlin smiled in response. Arthur was still taken aback by how young he looked. It was easy to forget that Merlin had barely turned fifteen in September.

“I’m fine. They gave me some pain killers so it’s not too bad anymore.” Morgana made a joke about buying drugs off of him, but Arthur was stuck on that image of Merlin on Lance’s phone. He couldn’t look at Merlin without thinking of that picture, and how in pain he had looked. 

“Besides,” Merlin grinned, “I’ve definitely had worse accidents than this.” 

_

“ _ Shhh! Shhhh!” Merlin whispered loudly, drunkenly, as they walked back to Arthur’s chambers.  _

_ “I’m not saying anything!” Arthur insisted, pushing open the door to his room.  _

_ “You’re being very loud. With your energy.” Merlin said with a stern expression.  _

_ “With my energy?” Arthur asked, shutting the door behind them and facing Merlin with an incredulous expression. _

_ “Your energy.” His servant repeated, sticking his lower lip out.  _

_ “You’re drunk, Merlin. Go back to Gaius’ chambers.”  _

_ “Can’t. I’ve got a job to do.” He said, looking Arthur up and down.  _

_ “It’s almost sunrise, Merlin. Go to sleep.” _

_ “I said I can’t! I have to tuck you in, it’s my job.” Merlin insisted, and grabbed Arthur’s nightclothes from the cabinet.  _

_ “You don’t have to ‘tuck me in’--I’m not a child!” _

_ “You kind of are.” Merlin pulled the jacket off of Arthur’s shoulders. “You can’t feed yourself.” He lifted at the bottom of Arthur’s shirt, pulling it over his head. “Can’t dress yourself.” He got on his knees, unlacing the boots. “Can’t even wake up on your own-honestly.” _

_ Arthur’s breath caught in his throat as Merlin moved to his trousers, grinning up at him wickedly. But it was over in an instant, when Merlin pulled the night shirt over his head.  _

_ “Why’d you want to go drinking anyways?” Arthur asked, walking towards the bed, trying to forget whatever had just happened.  _

_ “It was my birthday.” Merlin said simply, and pulled the duvet up to Arthur’s chin. “And I’d never celebrated it back home.” _

_ “Why not?” Arthur asked, feeling uncharacteristically meek.  _

_ “Too poor.” His servant responded, already moving towards the door. “But I’m glad I got to do something this year.” _

_ A part of Arthur wanted to ask him to stay. Just to stay and be there. But another part of him, that sounded suspiciously like his father, reminded him how wrong that would be.  _

_ “Thank you for tonight, Arthur. For an absolute prat, you’re pretty alright.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Hope everyone is doing okay right now. I know the world is terrifying right now and some of us are on here looking for an escape from it. Hope I'm doing an okay job providing it. Just wanted to let all of you know that I care about you, even though we've never met, and I hope you're all coping well with everything.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they all go to a High School Party, and Merlin wishes he kissed Gwaine.

Merlin had never been to a party before. For his and Will’s birthday the two of them would just walk to the park and eat grocery-store cake. After Will had turned fourteen, they’d walk to the edge of town and get high. It was a lovely tradition that both of them looked forward to every year. They didn’t do parties, and they didn’t get invited to parties. So, Merlin was rather inexperienced with the whole “party” thing and had no idea what to expect when Lance picked him up for Leon’s. 

Gwen and Arthur were already in the car, with Morgana in the passenger seat blasting the Pixies through the stereo. From what he could see, she was wearing a black lace tank top with jeans that probably came ripped in the store. As he climbed in next to Gwen, Merlin took note of what everyone else was wearing. Gwen wore a simple white dress with a red jacket that was probably Arthur’s. Arthur was wearing a plain white shirt tucked into black jeans and thick black boots. Lance was the only one wearing normal clothes, with his standard denim jacket and oversized t-shirt. 

Merlin had attempted to style his hair for the occasion, but gave up almost immediately. He had struggled deciding what to wear, as he had everyday since he broke his arm. His blazers wouldn’t fit over the stupid, bulky,  _ neon  _ cast so he was at a complete loss. He didn’t want to just wear a t-shirt because people dressed up for parties, right? They tried to look good and hot, and other stuff Merlin had never been concerned with back home. No matter what he tried on, Merlin did not look good or hot in the slightest. 

He eventually settled on the striped button down he’d worn to Will’s sister’s funeral. It was probably a bad omen, but there was little else exciting in his closet. The downside was that the sleeves wouldn’t go over the cast, so he had to cut them and roll them up, making it a short-sleeve shirt. It was probably sacrilegious and said a lot about his respect for the dead, but Merlin was already running late. He only had a pair of dress shoes, and a pair of high-top sneakers, so it was still jeans and sneakers on his lower half. He looked slightly manic since the gel he had attempted to apply in his hair only made it messier. In short, Merlin looked either like he’d just killed a man or a man had just tried to kill him and there was no in between. 

“You look good!” Gwen shouted in his ear over the music. Leon lived a little outside the city, closer to the suburbs, so the drive was going to be long. 

“Thanks! I bought this shirt for a funeral!” He responded immediately, without thinking.  _ Great way to make friends _ , Merlin thought,  _ you should absolutely say things like that. You’re not creepy at all.  _

“That’s goth!” Morgana yelled from the front seat, turning around to grin at him. Her eyes were thickly lined in black, her lips a deep purple.

“I like your make-up!” He shouted back, but apparently all she heard was “like your make-up!”

“Yeah, I did go for a darker look tonight! I wanna freak out all of Arthur’s normie friends.” She yelled and the music cut out abruptly. 

“Can you please not yell while I’m driving illegally without a license?” Lance asked calmly, keeping his eyes firmly trained on the road. 

“Don’t be such a wuss!” Arthur shouted, and Morgana played the music again, turning the volume up louder. Merlin reached forward to lay an apologetic hand on Lance’s shoulder. 

Merlin would never tell Will, but Lance was his best friend. The two of them hung out almost every day after school when Lance wasn’t working. They tutored together and walked to Gaius’ afterwards. There they would do homework and watch a movie before venting to one another. They would rant about any number of things--how much they both hated being poor, how unfair it was that their parents had to work so hard, how much love sucked as a whole. 

Lance was still completely besotted with Gwen, apparently had been for the past three years. 

“It sucks because I know I can’t compete with Arthur.” He said last week, with tears in his eyes. “And I don’t even want to. They’re so fucking good together. I hate it. And I hate myself for hating it, you know?”

Merlin nodded somberly, and wrapped his arms around Lance, watching whatever superhero was on screen get knocked into a brick wall. 

Lance was the first person other than Gilli that Merlin came out to. He was incredibly wonderful and accepting when Merlin told him. He hugged Merlin when he cried, as he told Lance about how he left Ealdor, when the bullying was just too much. 

“And it sucks so much. I like it back home. I like the country, I like how empty and quiet it is out there. Everything here is so fucking loud and even if I don’t get beat up at school anymore, I’d still rather be at home.”

The two of them were close. Probably too close for only knowing each other for three months, but it didn’t matter. Both of them needed someone to confide in, and they got along well. Merlin was definitely at least a little bit in love with Lance, which was a huge problem since all he did was talk about how much he loved Gwen.

The best part was that knowing Lance came with a built-in friend group. Morgana was into all the same music as Merlin, and the two of them hung out occasionally when Lance was working. Their dynamic was strange, mostly involving sharing music but occasionally getting into fiery intense arguments. She had figured that he was gay before Merlin ever told Lance and didn’t really seem to respect him wanting to keep it secret. 

“I don’t see what the big deal is.” She had said, probably around a month after they met. “I mean I know some people are about it, Lord knows my father’s a downright bigot, but wouldn’t it be better to just be done with it?”

It was a strangely personal discussion to have in the middle of a record store, but no one had paid too much attention to them. 

“Why don’t you come out then?” Merlin had responded defiantly, meeting her eyes in a dare. “I saw you making out with Elena last week after school.”

Morgana didn’t seem phased in the slightest by this revelation. She had only rolled her eyes and kept walking to the next aisle. 

“I told you why  _ I _ haven’t come out. Uther would fucking disown me.” She flipped through the albums cooly, but Merlin could tell she was a lot more upset by that fact then she let on. “But you, on the other hand, have no reason to hide. Gaius is the most accepting man on the planet.”

It wasn’t the first time she had let on her resentment of Merlin living with Gaius. It was the first time, however, that Merlin had seen exactly  _ why _ she was so resentful. 

“Maybe here it wouldn’t be a big deal here. But you don’t understand what it was like back home.” Merlin kept staring her down. “There’s a reason I moved to Camelot, Morgana.”

The discussion was finished with that, but they hadn’t hung out with just the two of them since. Instead, she maintained a cool distance from Merlin at all times, even when they walked to school. That, unfortunately, meant Merlin was forced to talk to Arthur every morning.

Arthur was a great guy, and while Merlin did genuinely get along with him, he was always too busy with Gwen to hang out. As a result, their friendship was shallow, based entirely on sharing books in English class and making fun of each other’s clothes. So far tonight, Arthur had not said anything about Merlin’s outfit. The night was still young, but Merlin was going to count that as a win.

“We’re almost here, I think.” Arthur said, and leaned forward to talk to Lance over the music. They pulled up next to a huge, modern-looking house. 

“I’m kind of nervous.” Gwen whispered to Merlin, looking over her shoulder like she didn’t want Arthur to hear.

“It’s okay.” Merlin squeezed her hand. “I am too.”

_

_ It was the first time they had left the city without a slew of knights on their tail. It was just them, Merlin and Arthur--destiny’s playthings--alone in the middle of nowhere. The horses were tied up against an old tree, the fire crackled softly at their feet. They spent the whole day traveling, at the cryptic request of Uther to investigate the border towns in Bayard’s kingdom for any rumors of an army amasssing.  _

_ “Busy work is what it is!” Arthur exclaimed, poking at the fire with a stick, lips stuck into a pout. “He won’t let me do anything since that stupid Questing Beast bite.” _

_ Merlin’s stomach twisted at that, still feeling responsible for Arthur getting bit in the first place. His chest burned, rubbing against the fabric of his tunic all day, still sore from Nimueh’s final attack.  _

_ “To be fair, you did almost die, Arthur.” He offered, not meeting the rage in Arthur’s eyes. _

_ “Princes are supposed to almost-die,  _ Mer _ lin.” Arthur huffed, “We die protecting our kingdom from horrible men and monsters alike.” _

_ He looked like a child, pouting and crossing his arms indignantly. Merlin would have laughed if Arthur wasn’t insisting that it was his birthright to die, after all Merlin went through to protect him.  _

_ “Don’t be so dramatic. You know you can’t die. Camelot would be lost.” _

_ “Camelot would go on. Morgana will marry some prince and he’ll be king after Uther.” Arthur’s eyes were cast to the ground, dark and void of the anger that was there just seconds ago. There was something new in its place, something Merlin hadn’t seen since he was crowned Prince. It was dark and twisted, suggesting the very thing Merlin dreaded most in the world.  _

_ “If Prince Arthur died, the monarchy would go on. I would be nothing more than a name in history, with no great kingdom attached. At least if I die in battle, I’ll be a hero.” _

_ “If you die in battle...” Merlin started, trembling for reasons he didn’t care to explore, “If you die in battle then Camelot will miss out on the greatest King to have ever lived.” He finished at a whisper, half hoping Arthur didn’t hear him, half hoping he heard every word.  _

_ “Merlin…” When Arthur looked up, the vacancy in his expression was gone. Instead, his face was painstakingly vulnerable, lips parted, eyes wide. It made Merlin’s chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with Nimueh. He got up to his knees, visibly trying to decide how far to take this moment. _

_ “Don’t.” Merlin whispered over the beat of his heart, loud enough to scare the horses. “I mean it. I won’t repeat it, but I’ve never meant anything more.” _

_

The party wasn’t terrible. Maybe it was for Lance, who was tragically unable to drink since he was driving. But he had spent the first hour making fun of Merlin for being such a lightweight, tousling his hair almost every five minutes. Merlin couldn’t remember a time when he’d been happier. As soon as they showed up, Gwen and Morgana were invited to dance by a group of girls, all of whom had complimented Morgana’s make-up profusely. 

“You’re fucking wrong!” Arthur drunkenly shouted at Leon where they were surrounded by other members of the soccer team, “Your hand-eye coordination is bullshit!” 

Merlin turned back to Lance, who was staring at where Gwen was singing karaoke. His lips were pressed together in a gesture that was in equal parts pouting and indignation. 

“I think I’m gonna go make out with someone.” He said slowly, methodically, and walked into another room, leaving Merlin staring dumbly after him. 

Merlin distracted himself from the way that stung by getting another drink, before he decided to step into the backyard. He felt horribly awkward, since he knew absolutely no one here except for the four people who had ditched him. 

There were a few people outside, sitting in a circle and smoking weed. Most of them were older kids, except for the other freshman in Merlin’s Chemistry class, Mordred. Mordred smiled shyly at him before waving him over. 

“And who would this be?” A guy with shaggy hair asks, puffing smoke out of his mouth. He looks probably only a year or two older than Merlin at most. He was disarmingly attractive, like stop-you-dead-in-your-tracks attractive. He smiled brightly, and Merlin took note of a sharp jawline and dark eyes. 

“Merlin. He’s in Chem with me.” Mordred says, and Merlin sits down next to him. 

“Cool, cool. Another whiz kid.” The guy said and passed Merlin a joint he definitely didn’t ask for. “I’m Gwaine.”

Merlin took the joint and inhaled, anyways. He felt a little bitter and a little betrayed since Lance had left him to go make out with some stranger. Even if he had no right to feel that way, since he and Lance were only friends. 

Merlin couldn’t say how long he hung out with Gwaine and Mordred, letting the familiar fogginess overtake his mind. At some point Mordred left, alongside the other two girls whose names Merlin had learned but instantly forgotten.

“Is Merlin your real name?” Gwaine asked, poking his cheek with a lighter. 

“Yeah.”

“That’s a pretty fucking stupid name.” He said, inhaling deeply on what Merlin counted to be his fourth joint. 

“Dude your name is Gwaine. That is actually the sound someone makes when vomiting.” The other boy giggled before gurgling “Gwaaaiiineee,” while mock throwing up. 

Then both of them were laughing hysterically, leaning back onto Leon’s lawn. 

“How’d you break your arm, whiz-kid?” Gwaine asked, rolling over so that his face was mere inches from Merlin’s. Merlin’s breath caught in his throat. 

“Fell down the stairs.” Merlin whispered, turning on his side so that their noses were almost touching. 

“Shit-that was you?” Gwaine laughed, nose bumping against Merlin’s, “I made fun of whoever that was this whole week!”

“Thanks.” Merlin deadpanned. 

“Here, let me make it up to you. I’ll sign your cast.” Gwaine said with a toothy grin, before sitting up and grabbing a marker from his back pocket. 

“Why the hell do you just have that?”

“Easy,” Gwaine said, grabbing Merlin’s arm and pulling it towards him. Merlin bit his lip sharply at the pain. “I like to write my name on random shit that isn’t mine.”

“Why would you do that?” Merlin asked as Gwaine uncapped the marker, Merlin's arm in his lap. 

“Also easy,” He dragged the marker against the cast, writing his name in large bubble letters. “Once my name’s on it, it’s mine.”

With that, he capped the marker and smirked as Merlin’s cheeks flared red. 

“Fuck, c’mon Gwaine-don’t corrupt him!” Suddenly Arthur was there, disturbing and ending whatever moment they had just shared. 

“Merlin, don’t listen to anything he says.” Arthur reached out a hand to help Merlin off the ground. “He’s a  _ delinquent _ .” 

“Please, princess.” Gwaine smiled, completely unaffected by Arthur’s remarks. “I’ll be back on the team next year and you won’t have to keep playing defense.” 

“Alice says otherwise.” Arthur grumbled, pulling Merlin up aggressively and dragging him towards the door. 

“Call me!” Gwaine shouted as they walked inside.

“Definitely don’t call him.” Arthur said, shutting the door behind him. “C’mon we’re playing spin the bottle.”

Merlin opted not to respond to Arthur’s first statement, and instead asked where Lance was.

“Oh, he and Mithian are gonna play too.” Arthur said, leading Merlin into the living room where a group of about ten people were sitting in a circle. Merlin didn’t know who Mithian was, but instantly decided that he hated her. In the circle, he recognized Gwen, Morgana, Lance (sitting next to a girl with beautiful dark hair), and Leon. There were a few girls there who he’d seen around school and some other boys on the soccer team. 

He sat next to Arthur and Gwen, but Merlin wasn’t really too aware of anything that was happening. His head was foggy from both the alcohol and the weed. At some point, people started kissing each other and Merlin decided that he probably should have kissed Gwaine before Arthur got there. He was probably a better kisser than stupid Lance, with his stupid hair and his stupid chivalry.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lance is everyone's first kiss, Arthur's an eavesdropping scoundrel who comes to the conclusion that he should probably be Merlin's best friend.

“Well, I’ve never kissed anyone before.” Merlin said sheepishly, slowly, the tips of his ears turning bright red. 

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” Mithian said, “I’ll make it nice.”

Merlin didn’t look too convinced, biting the inside of his cheek. Arthur supposed he should have asked if Merlin even wanted to play in the first place. As soon as he saw Merlin outside with Gwaine, though, he wanted him out of there as soon as possible. Not that Gwaine was a bad guy, he was an extremely talented athlete, but he’d gotten himself kicked off the team for swearing at the coach. He flunked out of most of his classes, ditching to get high under the bleachers at least once a day. Arthur decided that Gaius probably wouldn’t want Merlin mixed up with that kind of kid. 

“Wait, hang on.” Morgana interrupted, smiling fiendishly. “Lance was Arthur’s first kiss. He should be Merlin’s too.”

At that, everyone laughed and Merlin’s face turned even redder. Lance looked unbothered, laughing alongside everyone else. 

“I’ll give my turn to Lance.” Mithian said, pulling her hair to the side. Merlin looked like he was about to die from embarrassment and Arthur felt a little guilty for dragging him into this. Not guilty enough to do anything, but guilty enough to stop teasing him about his arm.

“Okay, fine.” Lance said and crawled across the floor towards Merlin. Leon started laughing and the rest of the circle joined in. Arthur faked a laugh, but it wasn’t as funny knowing that Lance was dead sober and couldn’t say no to anyone.

“Oh fuck.” Merlin muttered before meeting Lance in the middle of the circle. Morgana whistled at them, as Lance grabbed Merlin’s face with both hands, and pressed their mouths together. 

Everyone around them was laughing, but Arthur had a hard time joining in. The thing was, the kiss was supposed to be awkward. It was a joke, Lance being everyone’s first kiss. Lance wasn’t supposed to kiss Merlin like  _ that,  _ all open mouthed and genuine. Merlin definitely wasn’t supposed to kiss him back, just as gentle and intently as Arthur would Gwen. 

The kiss was brief, and no one else seemed to notice how bizarre it was. The rest of the game went by without further commotion, after Merlin, Gwen kissed Elena on the cheek. The game ended when Morgana started full-on making out with Leon and Arthur felt ridiculously uncomfortable. 

They left the party half an hour later, piling up in Lance’s sedan. Arthur sat in the middle this time, since Gwen fell asleep with her head against the window as soon as she got in the car. Morgana was playing music through the stereo, but something softer and quieter than normal, but she’d fallen asleep halfway through the first song. Merlin hadn’t spoken since Lance kissed him, but his knee kept bouncing up and down nervously. 

“Dude, stop.” Arthur said and Merlin looked straight at him, with wide, blue eyes. 

“Sorry.” He said slowly, and stopped moving his leg. “Weird night.”

“You worried about Gaius?” Arthur asked, knowing how Gwen’s dad felt about her drinking. 

“Yeah. He said I shouldn’t drink because of the pain meds I’m on for my arm.” He lifted up his cast, in all its neon glory, and Arthur could make out Gwaine’s obnoxious signature. He scowled at it.

“You feeling any more sober?”

“I’m somewhere between laughing uncontrollably and full-on sobbing.” Merlin said evenly. 

“So why don’t you?” Arthur asked. 

“Why don’t I what?”

“Laugh? Sob?”

“I’m too tired, I think. Or sick.”

“Merlin don’t throw up in my dad’s car.” Lance said sternly. “I will pull over. Don’t fucking do it or-”

“Or what?” Merlin responded, taunting in a way that he’d only ever been with Arthur. “You won’t kiss me anymore?”

“Oh, shut up. I was being nice to you.” Lance said cooly, but Arthur saw him biting his lip in the rear view mirror. 

“Hmmm.” Merlin sighed. “Probably a mistake.”

“Well someone has to be.” Lance responded, and turned the music up, effectively getting the last word in whatever weird argument had just transpired between them. 

Arthur fell asleep against Gwen’s shoulder at some point, lulled into rest by whatever indie band Morgana was obsessed with at the moment. 

_

_ “Merlin…” Arthur said, rising to his knees, wanting, wanting, wanting to move closer to his servant without fully understanding why.  _

_ “Don’t.” Merlin shook his head. “ _ _ I mean it. I won’t repeat it, but I’ve never meant anything more.” _

_ Arthur sank back down, too stunned to respond. His lungs too busy accounting for the beat of his heart to provide him with enough air to respond. Merlin was always there, it seemed, to tell Arthur exactly what he needed to hear. Even if he was dead wrong. _

_ “You’re wrong, though. How will I be this great King everyone expects when I can’t even control my own temper. If I turn to violence at every opportunity, knowing full well the effects it will have on my people?” _

_ “Is this about the unicorn?” Merlin asked softly. _

_ “Of course it’s about the bloody unicorn!” Arthur snapped back, ruining the fragile moment they’d just shared. “Every single test he threw at me proved that I’m not good enough to be King.” _

_ “Except for the last one.” Merlin added thoughtfully, always trying to be the voice of reason, always trying to put out that rage Arthur had felt brewing inside him since he was born. _

_ “You were willing to sacrifice yourself for a servant.” Merlin pressed, and wasn’t that just the problem? Arthur  _ wasn’t  _ willing to sacrifice himself for a servant, he was willing to sacrifice himself for  _ Merlin.  _ It was a selfish decision at the end of the day. He was willing to leave Camelot without a Prince, his father without an heir, just because he couldn’t stand the thought of living without Merlin. Not that he could say any of this out loud anyways. Not that he could tell his servant exactly  _ why  _ he was willing to die for him.  _

_ “After letting my people starve for weeks.” He added darkly, meeting Merlin’s eyes in a glare.  _

_ “My earliest memory is of being hungry.” Merlin said after a fraught silence.  _

_ “All children’s first memory is being hungry, you idiot.”  _

_ “No, I mean, my first memory is of a famine.” Merlin continued, moving right past the insult, not even to gripe back at him. “Of being so hungry it hurt to move, to lay down, to do anything. I remember feeling cold all the time, even after spending hours in the sun. My mother’s hair started falling out, we were so weak that we couldn’t speak. I was four years old and I barely survived. Will’s sister was only an infant, and she didn’t make it. I spent the entire next year of my life in and out of sickness like all the other village children who were weakened from those months without food. A lot of the ones who survived the famine couldn’t survive getting sick afterwards. We lost almost half the village.” _

_ Arthur didn’t respond, staring intently at his servant’s face. This was the side of Merlin that only came through before battle, or when Arthur was on his deathbed. The way his eyes cast down, dark and heavy lidded, but so, so blue, his jaw set back in solemnity, voice low and somber.  _

_ “Ealdor wasn’t the only village who suffered that year. Cenred’s knights taxed all the border villages heavily months before, demanding what little grains we had stored to keep his army well-fed during the war.” _

_ Arthur felt sick, thinking of how anyone with an ounce of power could let people suffer like that. He felt angry, thinking that  _ Merlin, _ of all people, had suffered like that.  _

_ “Those are the actions of men who are not meant to be kings. Of power-mongers who have no humanity left in them. You couldn’t stand to let your people suffer. You couldn’t stand the injustice of a man stealing food for himself while your people starved, that is why you attacked him. Not because you’re a bad man, but because you’re a great one.” _

_

When Arthur woke up, he and Gwen were the only ones left in the car. She was still fast asleep against the window, but Lance, Morgana, and Merlin were outside of the car, in the parking lot of a gas station. Merlin and Morgana were holding soft drinks, the former’s shaking in his hand as he argued.

Merlin’s hair was even more wild than normal, sticking up in every direction. Arthur watched as he ran a hand through it, looking on the verge of tears. The sleeves of his button down had unrolled, exposing hastily cut fabric at the elbows.

Arthur slowly leaned over to roll down the window, just enough to hear what they were saying without drawing attention to himself.

“Don’t be such a baby, Merlin. No one thought anything of it.” Morgana was saying, and took a long sip from her drink. 

“I thought it would be better than kissing Mithian.” Lance added, and Arthur tried to piece together what exactly they were arguing about. 

“You should have let it be my choice.”

“And you’d rather have Mithian be your first kiss?” Morgana said, disgusted. Arthur never really understood why she hated Mithian so much. 

“Maybe I would have rather never played the stupid game in the first place.” Arthur froze as Merlin walked over to the car. He quickly leaned back and shut his eyes, hoping the tint of the windows had covered him. He felt the car shift slightly when Merlin leaned against it. 

“I’m sorry, Merlin. I didn’t think it would be a big deal.” Lance said, genuinely apologetic. 

“I know you didn’t. I’m sorry for freaking out. It’s just-” He paused, and Arthur was willing to bet his life that Merlin was haphazardly running a hand through his again. “It’s just not the way I thought it would happen.” Arthur felt for Merlin, having had his own first kiss ruined by Morgana’s meddling too. 

There was a moment of silence before Morgana got back in the car, leaving the other two outside. Arthur resumed his fake sleeping. She pounded her head against the back of the seat, quiet enough to not wake Gwen. Merlin and Lance were still speaking outside, much quieter so that Arthur had to strain his ears to make the words out. 

“I never would have-”

“Oh, shut up.” Merlin snapped, more bitter than Arthur had ever heard him before. “Don’t be nice about it. You know that’ll only make it worse.” 

“I just-I don’t get it.” Lance whispered, now leaning up against Arthur’s cracked window. 

“What’s not to get? You’re so damn nice to everyone all the time. Like a fucking VIctorian gentleman. And you know that there’s only ever been-”

“I know.” Lance interrupted. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s my own fucking fault. I know how you feel, and I know I  _ shouldn’t  _ feel like this. And it isn’t fair for anyone.”

“Don’t be sorry, Merlin. I should’ve been more-”

Arthur couldn’t hear what Lance said over Morgana’s loud, angry sigh. 

“Arthur?” She whispered. “You awake?”

He kept his head back, eyes shut. He was not in the mood for her to yell at him for eavesdropping.

“Shit.” She whispered, and Arthur heard her head hit the seat rest again. “Why do I keep fucking it up for everyone?” 

The door on Arthur’s left opened and Merlin slid in, quiet so as not to wake Arthur. Lance got in the car shortly after, turning the ignition and turning up the stereo. 

No one spoke until they dropped Gwen and Morgana off. Arthur woke from his fake slumber then, feeling strange and dirty for spying on his friends. 

He had a theory about what they were talking about, and it made him feel sick. Not that Merlin was gay, if anything Arthur should have expected that, but crushing on Lance? That was a fate worse than death. Arthur was certain that now, Lance had probably been leading Merlin on for months now. Hanging on almost everyday after school, insisting that they all visit Merlin in the hospital, seeing him more than he saw Arthur. Lance couldn’t say no to anyone, and God knows he was so nice that almost any interaction he had could be perceived as flirting. 

Not that Arthur didn’t see  _ why  _ Merlin would have feelings for his best friend. Even though Arthur himself could never actually find another guy attractive, he had to admit that Lance was handsome. And Lance was smart, funny at times, ridiculously empathetic. It was a miracle more girls didn’t throw themselves at him. Of course, Arthur knew he was kind of seeing Mithian? (At least that’s what he’d assumed when he found them sucking each other’s faces off in a closet tonight.)

Perhaps Arthur’s judgement of Merlin being more Lance and Morgana’s friend wasn’t fair. Especially not if Merlin really did have feelings for Lance. Arthur adored Gwen, but she definitely wasn’t his best friend. The way Arthur saw it, friendship and romance were so completely different that it was near impossible for them to coincide. He loved Gwen, but he didn’t  _ talk  _ to her how he would Lance. He definitely couldn’t talk about  _ Gwen to Gwen.  _ And if Merlin was crushing on Lance, who would he talk about Lance with? Morgana? She was terrible at that sort of thing. (Arthur suspected she didn’t even have crushes on people, she just chose people to start kissing at random.)

Arthur decided that he should probably take one for the team and be Merlin’s friend. More than the “we share three classes and the same best friend” dynamic that they had now. Arthur should probably be the one to help him get over Lance, since Morgana would do a terrible job. And it’s not like Merlin had anyone else to talk to. Arthur shuddered remembering seeing him Gwaine. Irresponsible, crass, perpetually stoned Gwaine. No, it was Arthur’s responsibility, his duty, to make sure that Gwaine did not become Merlin’s best friend. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Merlin and Arthur hang out, and there is gay drama. 
> 
> Also spoilers for Little Women I guess?

**_Two weeks later_ **

Merlin couldn’t say for sure how or why it happened, but Arthur suddenly decided that Merlin was his friend. For most of the school year, they hadn’t really seen each other outside of class, or when they went out in a group. But at some point, he started asking Merlin to hang out after school when Gwen was with Morgana. The first few times they hung out, Lance was there. The three of them watched bad action movies and did homework. It wasn’t exactly awkward, but there was still some unresolved tension between Merlin and Lance. 

It was absolute torture having to tell your best friend that you had a massive crush on him, even though you knew he was completely in love with  _ his  _ best friend’s girlfriend. It was even worse telling him that after he’d  _ kissed  _ you an hour ago. Lance was a gentleman about it, of course, apologizing thoroughly even though he’d done nothing wrong. The whole situation was terrible and disrupted their normal dynamic severely. At least Arthur’s presence helped make it more normal, acting like a buffer between them. 

Then, Lance’s work schedule at the retail store shifted, and Arthur started hanging with Merlin without Lance around. That should have been more awkward, but they already spent half the school day together every day so they were more used to the other’s company than Merlin thought. 

They were halfway through the school year, and the highlight of Merlin’s day, every day, were the three classes he had with Arthur. They spent the past two weeks passing notes and murmuring under their breath. In their English class, they started reading the same book, leaving notes in the margins for each other. Some of the notes were helpful like “This is totally going to be an essay prompt.” Most of them, though, were making fun of the book. 

It started when Merlin had asked to borrow Arthur’s copy of  _ Little Women  _ because he hadn’t gotten his in time to do their first assignment. Arthur mocked him, of course, for being perpetually underprepared. He lent Merlin the book anyways.

Merlin had taken special care to highlight random passages and quotes he liked throughout the book, leaving notes and writing down his own opinions about the characters. ( _ “Arthur, you’re totally Amy,” “Gwen is Meg and Morgana’s Jo,” “I’m obviously Laurie and Lance is John.”)  _

The next day, they spent the entirety of lunch arguing about which one of their friends was which character. Arthur insisted that he was  _ obviously _ Laurie and Gwen was Amy, (“I mean we  _ are _ dating after all”,) Lance was still John (“Okay I’ll give you that one,  _ Mer _ lin,) Morgana is decidedly not Jo (“Morgana is a terrible sister!”) He decided that Merlin was probably Professor Bhaer, and Gaius was Mr. Laurence. Eventually, the rest of their friends realized what they were arguing about and offered their own (also totally wrong) opinions on the matter. 

“Actually I think I  _ am  _ more Meg than anyone else. I’m definitely not Amy, Arthur.” Gwen added. 

“Lance is clearly Beth. And I am definitely not Jo, Merlin.” Morgana asserted. “Unless that’s just your clever way of confessing your love for me, in which case, I must decline.” She winked at Merlin, whose face was getting increasingly redder. 

“Hey! Stop flirting with my friends!” Morgana had recently taken to flirting with Merlin any time the four of them were together, mostly because it annoyed Arthur, but Merlin knew it was secretly because she felt bad about the party. About forcing Merlin to reveal his true feelings to his only best friend in Camelot. 

Today was a Saturday, and it was the first time he and Arthur were hanging out on what was most decidedly not a school day. Gwen was out of town, visiting her brother for the weekend, and Morgana said she might meet up with them when she felt like it. Not like they were doing anything interesting anyways. They were just at Gaius’ watching movies and arguing over the best kinds of popcorn. 

“Of course  _ you  _ would be into that weird shit.” Arthur said, after Merlin asserted the merits of caramel corn. 

“It’s no weirder than cheddar flavored popcorn, which is gross as fuck.”

“It is not!” He hit Merlin over the head with a pillow. “Popcorn is a savory food and I will die on that hill.”

“Then-” Merlin gasped out a laugh, reaching behind him for another pillow. “Fucking die.” He hit Arthur clean across the face. They kept hitting each other until Arthur hit his cast particularly hard and Merlin nearly bit through his lip to keep from crying. 

“Shit! Forgot you broke yourself.” Arthur said immediately after, characteristically avoiding an apology. 

“It’s okay. Didn’t hurt that much.” It hurt a lot. A whole fucking lot. 

“You know I’ve never broken a bone before.” Arthur added, looking over at Merlin, stupid golden hair catching the afternoon light coming through the window. Honestly, Merlin needed to stop befriending so many attractive people. At this rate, it just wasn’t sustainable. At least Arthur was enough of a dick to ensure that Merlin would never catch feelings for him. 

“Is that an offer?” Merlin tilted his head towards the other boy, smirking. See with Lance, that look would most definitely be flirting. Like full-on, make-out-with-me-right-now flirting. But with Arthur, he was only offering to punch him in the face. For someone so naturally beautiful, Arthur did have an incredibly punchable face. 

“Your noodle arms could never damage this.” He flexed for show, and Merlin wished he just wouldn’t fucking do that. It was bad enough that he was constantly surrounded by some of the most attractive, in-shape guys in school since Arthur was on the soccer team. He did not need Arthur’s aren’t-I-fucking-beatiful attitude along with it. He flicked Arthur’s neck, hard. 

“Fuck off. I’d obviously hire someone to break your bones  _ for  _ me.”

“Like you have the money to pay for a good knee-capping.” Arthur joked, and Merlin was pleased that they made the class difference a joke. The way Lance and Arthur talked about money was hard to watch, with Arthur constantly trying to pay for him and Lance preferring to work three extra shifts rather than let Arthur do just that.

“You think I’d have to pay Morgana to do it?” Arthur laughed at that, but paused, floundering for a comeback. His phone chimed then, and he frowned at it. 

“Gwen alright?” Merlin asked, hoping it wasn’t Morgana or Uther telling him to come back home.

“She is....” Arthur frowned again. “Upset.”

“Why?” Arthur started typing, slowly and Merlin could tell he wasn’t sure what to say.

“Her brother got into a fist fight.”

“Huh.”

Merlin turned up the volume on the movie, as Arthur kept texting Gwen. After a few minutes passed, Arthur looked up again, shoved his phone back in his pocket.

“She hates it when he gets into fights. That’s why he had to leave Camelot. Got expelled.”

“Where’s he now?”

“Small town outside Essetir.” Coincidentally, Merlin was from a small town outside Essetir, and he was about to ask which one, when Arthur added, “Not Ealdor though.”

“Good, then. Those kids can be brutal.”

“How so?” Arthur asked in a tone that Merlin couldn’t quite consider gentle (nothing about Arthur was gentle) but softer than how he usually spoke to Merlin. 

“Oh, just, you know.” Merlin ran a hand through his hair. There was a turning point here for sure. He and Arthur were friendly now, getting to be good friends, but they very rarely discussed anything serious. Hell, Merlin only talked about serious things with Lance. 

“No, I don’t actually.” Arthur said, sarcastic as ever. 

“They just-” A decision had to be made. He remembered crying when he told Lance. He remembered Gilli’s face, full of raw anger as he yelled at Merlin for just taking the abuse. “They bullied me. A lot.”

“Did you ever get beat up?” Arthur asked, eyes interested. He made it sound novel, like having the shit kicked out of you was an experience everyone should have. It was the exact opposite of Lance’s kind eyes and warm embrace. 

“Yeah.” Merlin sighed. “A lot.”

“Shit. How?”

“Really?” Merlin asked, craning his neck to glare at Arthur.

“Yeah, I mean. It’s kind of badass.” And there was Arthur, the epitome of fifteen year old boys everywhere. He was kind of like the anti-Lance. Aristocratic arrogance, got everything he wanted, treated other people’s hardships like an anecdote. 

“Badass? You think getting the shit kicked out of you by boys twice your size is  _ badass _ ?”

“Yeah.” Arthur said, like it was obvious. “You ever get a black eye? Girls are into that.”

They both started laughing then, Merlin on the verge of hysterics. He was around ninety percent sure Arthur knew he was gay, which made it even funnier. 

“What a shame. Don’t think it has quite the same appeal for guys.” Merlin said, pulling out his ridiculous flip phone and scrolling through his texts to Will. There was a specific photo he was looking for. He found it, and handed the phone to Arthur.

“Holy shit.” He said, and Merlin was waiting for the laughter, in response to what was probably the funniest photo Merlin had ever taken in his life. It was taken just outside the town’s limits earlier this year. His left eye was swollen and just starting to purple, blurring his vision. There was a steady stream of blood pouring out his nose. Behind him was the cheerfully painted sign  _ “Ealdor: A place to call home!”  _ The happy-face flowers with paint half chipped off. He was grinning from ear to ear, exposing as many teeth as he possibly could. 

“People did that to you?” Arthur said incredulously, facing Merlin with wide, concerned eyes. He was not in fact, laughing uncontrollably at Merlin’s bloody face in front of the sign. Maybe Merlin should ask their English teacher to go over irony again. Clearly Arthur wasn’t grasping it. 

“Yeah. I kind of deserved it though.” Merlin added, refusing to meet Arthur’s eyes. Kanen and a couple of his friends had cornered Merlin, a few weeks after the fire incident and hit him until he couldn’t breathe. Afterwards, he walked to the edge of town. Merlin vividly remembered telling himself that he could just keep walking. He could just leave if he really wanted to. But then Will came to get him and helped the bleeding stop. He half carried Merlin home, where his mother started crying as she assessed the damage. 

It had never been that bad before. Before, it was just them shoving him into walls, calling him filthy names. After the fire, though, it escalated quickly. It was the worst in between the fire and Gilli. When Gilli transferred, he kept Merlin from bearing the worst of it, acting as a barrier between him and the other kids. They couldn’t get away with hitting Gilli like that--Merlin was the only one the teachers would turn a blind eye to.

“Like hell you did, that’s not okay at all.” Arthur almost shouted, visibly angry. “Did they get expelled?” 

Merlin recoiled further into the couch. This was a new side of Arthur, and frankly, a terrifying one. The way his jaw set back, eyes flaming, lips pulled back into a snarl. He looked like he could kill someone. Merlin couldn’t bring himself to tell Arthur the truth-that no, they weren’t expelled. The principal had let them off with a warning and refused to acknowledge Hunith’s complaints about Merlin’s safety. That he’d said “We’ll take more severe action if this happens again.” Instead, Merlin would lie to Arthur. Anything to quench whatever sinister rage was lurking underneath there, turning all the fire in Morgana to a spark by comparison. 

“Yeah.” Merlin swallowed, his mouth had gone dry. “They were expelled.”

Arthur quieted a bit at that, and he relaxed more into the couch. 

“Did they do that because you’re-” Arthur faltered, “you know-?” He made a waving gesture with his hands that made absolutely no sense to either of them. 

“Because I’m gay?” Merlin finished, finally addressing what he knew Arthur knew but wasn’t quite sure how.

“Yeah.”

“Partly.” 

“Why else?” Arthur narrowed his eyes, not in an intimidating way, though. He looked more like a child trying to solve a particularly difficult puzzle. His blue eyes, impossibly light and icy, leveled Merlin. He felt like he was being dissected. 

“Sorry, that’s Level 5 backstory.” Merlin said with a finality, not ready to be more vulnerable with Arthur than he was right now. 

“Level 5?” Arthur repeated. Merlin nodded. 

“Well what level am I on?”

“Hmm…” Merlin pondered. It was more of a joke than something he’d seriously considered. He supposed that if the fire was Level 5, then Gilli was level 4. Level 3 would have to be the bullying, since Level 2 was coming out, and Level 1 was “the clumsies,” as Hunith called it. 

“Level 3.”

“Level 3.” Arthur leaned back against the couch, looking up at the ceiling. “I can work with that.”

_

_ Merlin couldn’t say for sure exactly when he realized he was in love with Arthur. It was sometime after the Questing Beast. Maybe it was that night in the woods, just the two of them. He couldn’t get Arthur’s face out of his mind. They way he whispered Merlin’s name, not like how he normally said it, like it was an insult.  _

_ He didn’t admit it until after Kilgharrah’s attack, when Arthur’s vulnerability stopped being the face Merlin found most attractive. Instead, he couldn’t stop thinking of the way Arthur’s spine curved into a proud posture as he told his father, “So what? We stand here, watch Camelot fall?” The way his eyes lit up, not like a man of only twenty-two years, but like a King as old as time itself.  _

“ _ I need a dozen knights! Those who do not wish to fight can do so without stain on their character. For those brave enough to volunteer should know, the chances of returning are slim.” Arthur’s voice, gruff and earnest. Merlin knew then that he would face the dragon alone if he had to, that he would probably prefer to. He took note of the tears in Arthur’s eyes as his knights stepped forward one by one, ready to follow him into oblivion. The way they all looked at him with pride, like he was their King and it would be a privilege to die at his side.  _

_ Merlin wondered if Uther saw it too, that magnetism radiating off of his son. If he saw how readily his knights would die not for their kingdom,but for their Prince. It was very rare that a man would die for a people. These knights were going to die for  _ Arthur _ , not Camelot, because Arthur was the man they all wanted to see live through this. If they weren’t around to see Arthur’s Camelot, to see a young adult brimming with potential realize himself, then they at least wanted to be a part of whatever great destiny he held. Merlin knew he did, too. None of what he did for Arthur was for destiny, not really. Half of it was for his feelings for Arthur, but the other half was for who Arthur was.  _

_ It was easy to hear Kilgharrah say that Arthur would be great. It was easy for a prophecy to be recounted. It was something else entirely to see it in action. There was something indescribable about Arthur. Something so good, so honest and pure. He may be arrogant and entitled, but at only twenty-two he was ready to lay down his life for the mistakes of his father, for Merlin’s mistakes.  _

_ Arthur was everything good in men. He was kindness, telling Merlin that no man was worth his tears. He was mercy, helping Mordred escape against his father’s will. He was selflessness, willing to starve if it meant his people would live a day longer. He was love, definitely love, when he looked at Merlin, still breathing, in the wake of the battle, like all the wounds were already healed. _

_ _ _

They didn’t speak again until the end of the first movie. It was a rather gory gangster movie that left a bad taste in Merlin’s mouth. Normally, he and Lance would watch those sorts of movies with the volume down low, and Lance would talk to him during the fight scenes, providing a nice distraction. Arthur was glued to the screen, hissing whenever a character took a hit. His eyes darted back and forth, tracing the action. Merlin guessed that a part of him wished he got to fight like that. He probably had enough rage bottled up inside to be good at it too, if he was anything like Morgana. 

“So you’re gay.” Arthur said, facing him once the credits were finished. 

“...Yes?” Merlin responded, “Is that a problem?”

“God no!” Arthur exclaimed, offended that Merlin would even suggest that it was. “I was just hoping to ask you about Lance.”

“No.” Merlin replied simply, turning his attention back to the T.V. He was not having this conversation with Arthur, of all people.

“No, seriously. You guys are being fucking weird and it’s a bummer.” He whined. 

“Well, you probably already know everything.” Merlin clipped back, feeling frustrated that either Lance or Morgana told Arthur he was gay in the first place.

“Don’t be like that.” Arthur insisted. “No one told me anything. I was awake on that drive home Leon’s.”

“You scoundrel.” Merlin said, without the gusto of when he called Will that. Instead, he said in a completely normal, serious tone that made it a thousand times funnier. 

“C’mon.” Arthur tucked his hands under where his head lay on the back of the couch, and in all honesty, batted his eyelashes. If Merlin weren’t so embarrassed he’d laugh. “Tell me your boy troubles. Spill the tea.”

“No.” Merlin covered his blushing face with his hands. 

“You have to. You’re legally obligated and that is why I’m here.”

“What do you mean ‘why you’re here?’’” 

“I figured you couldn’t talk to Lance about Lance, and Morgana has the emotional range of a thimble, so you know, I’m here.” Arthur said, sitting up and craning his neck down in the way he always did when he was being genuine and didn’t want anyone to know. 

“That is…” Merlin fumbled for the words. “Strangely perceptive. And sort of sweet.”  _ And incredibly out of character, _ Merlin thought. 

“If you ever call me that again, I  _ will  _ break your other arm.” Ah. There’s the Arthur he knew. “Now tell me all of the gay drama before I take back the offer.”

Merlin spent the next hour talking about how awesome Lance was, and how even though Merlin knew he never had a chance with him in the first place, he still fell for him. He obviously didn’t tell Arthur about Lance’s feelings for Gwen, but he made it very clear that Lance was very straight and very much not interested in Merlin. 

“Dude, that sucks.” Arthur said at the end of it, wisely. 

“I know.” Merlin felt like there was a weight off his chest. He hadn’t realized how desperately he needed to talk about it, and how good it felt knowing that his friends accepted him. How good it felt being out, for the first time in his life. 

“Lance is an obnoxiously good person, isn’t he?” Arthur added with a sympathetic smile.

“He  _ apologized  _ to me for not returning my feelings! Profusely!”

“That’s Lance for you.” Arthur added with a sign. Merlin wondered if he was ever jealous of Lance. If perfect, wealthy, Arthur ever envied Lance for the sheer goodness of his heart. 

“Gwen’s like that, too.” He said, without letting Merlin answer. “Just really, really good without trying.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon talking about everything, from romance to music to how annoying their English teacher was. By the time they looked at the time, it was past midnight and Morgana was calling Arthur, demanding to know if he’d been murdered on the street. He smiled at Merlin as he walked through the doorway, promising to text once he was home. 

“Hey Merlin?” He said, just as Merlin was about to close the door. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I come over tomorrow?” Arthur asked, in the middle of the hallway, looking down at the horrible carpet from the ‘80s.

“Yeah, you can.” Merlin said, smiling and trying to stomach the warm feeling in his chest. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas at the Pendragons was never good.

Through Merlin, Arthur found out that Lance wasn’t able to join the soccer team because he needed to get a job. He worked part time tutoring, just like Merlin, and part time at some high-end retail store downtown. Arthur hated it, and hated himself for fighting with Lance about not joining the team at the start of the year. He knew he couldn’t offer to pay all of Lance’s expenses, even if he wanted to. He just hated seeing Lance’s talent go to waste. He was an incredible athlete, just as good as, if not better, than Arthur himself. But Lance seemed happy, even if he watched all of Arthur’s games wistfully from the bleachers with Morgana and Gwen. 

Merlin seemed to be good for Lance too. The two of them saw each other more than Arthur saw Gwen. They had a quiet dynamic, something Merlin didn’t have with anyone else. Arthur didn’t know what they talked about when they were alone, what strange thing bonded them, but he was glad for it. The three of them spent together were some of the best of Arthur’s life. Being with the two of them made Arthur feel important, like he was finally living that dream teenage experience he always wanted. 

Arthur was already starting to miss Merlin, since he had gone back home for winter break. Though Arthur was partially glad, since it gave him more time to focus on Lance and Gwen. Merlin tended to take up a lot of space in Arthur’s life, even if he didn’t mean to. 

Christmas in the Pendragon house was never a good thing. It wasn’t always bad, but it was never good. Christmas Day was the only holiday Uther ever took off. Every year, the three of them would eat breakfast, which was always scrambled eggs and toast since it was the only thing any of them could make. 

Arthur poured his own mug of coffee, and absently noted that the dining chairs didn’t seem as big as they were last year. Arthur spared a glance at his phone, checking Gwen’s messages.

_ -Merry Christmas dear! <3 <3 <3 _

_ -Hope you guys are having a good day <3 _

_ -You won’t BELIEVE what just happened _

_ -I came out of my room to find ELYAN sitting at the table!!! _

_ -He came home for Xmas!!!! _

_ -Do you think you’ll be able to come over later today? _

_ -My father would love to see you _

_ -And I’m dying for you to meet Ely!!!! _

Arthur looked back up when his father loudly cleared his throat. It was strange, how important Christmas was to Uther. He wasn’t home on any other holiday, even his own birthday, but they didn’t do anything special. Maybe him being home was special enough, but Arthur had a hard time convincing himself of that. 

This year Uther had got Morgana a new phone, with a better camera and more battery life. For Arthur, there was cash and new, higher end cleats for the upcoming soccer season. They had both gotten him a new coffee maker, that only required the push of a button. It was the sort of tongue-in-cheek gift that Uther could have reacted horribly to, but they decided was funny enough to risk. Arthur and Morgana had gotten each other the same thing for the third year in a row. It was cat food. Always cat food since Arthur had bought that silly kitten for her in junior high, and ended up taking care of it more than she did. (“Aithusa’s a free spirit who can fend for herself!” Morgana would insist, while Arthur preferred to pamper and spoil the cat.)

Since the gift exchange, no one had spoken. There was very little for them to say. He didn’t care to hear about how their holidays were going, they didn’t care to hear about the company. The sounds of their forks grating against the ceramic plates was getting to be unbearable.

“Father,” Arthur began, “Do you think I might be able to go to Gwen’s later today? Her brother is in town and would like to meet me.”

Uther dragged his eyes up from his plate slowly. Morgana looked exasperated, like she’d been expecting this all morning. There was tension building up all year, if any of them were honest. Last Christmas was a good one, full of thoughtful gifts and sitcom reruns. The one before was alright, with only one passive aggressive comment from Uther and two from Morgana. The fury accumulating behind Uther’s eyes had been there all morning, just waiting for a justification, which Arthur gave readily. 

“Does it mean nothing to you that this is the only day I have off all year?” He started softly, coldly, gradually getting louder. Uther Pendragon was methodical with anger, there was a process. Every outburst was intentional, Arthur knew.

“Does it mean absolutely nothing to you that I spend all my time working for you two to have a good life?”

Arthur kept his eyes down. Arthur expected Uther to react this way, but then, Gwen expected him to at least ask. There was no real way for Arthur to win in this situation.

“I’m sorry, father.” He said, head down, voice submissive. He wasn’t like this with anyone else, he never bent so easily as when his father stared him down. “I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t mean to disrespect you.”

“You never mean to do anything, Arthur.” His father sighed, de-escalating his tone from one of anger to disappointment. Arthur wondered if he knew then, that Arthur had to at least try, for Gwen’s sake. Maybe he knew that Arthur didn’t want to ask, to go against him. 

“I’m sorry.” Again, for good measure. 

“Arthur, don’t be such a fucking coward.” Morgana’s measured, clipped tones entered the argument. Because of course, she couldn’t just let things go back to normal. She couldn’t let Arthur have one day where they both weren’t screaming at him. 

“Don’t you dare speak like that!” Arthur always noticed, in these arguments, how Uther never said  _ ‘Don’t you dare speak to  _ him  _ like that.’  _ His problems were never that Morgana berated Arthur, just with the manner in which she did it. 

“Don’t you dare act like you work hard, like you spend all your time in that stupid penthouse office for us.” As Morgana spoke to their father, mirroring his even tones and mimicking his descent into full-blown rage, Arthur finally understood why Merlin said she was most like Jo March. She had fire in all the same places, that same burning need to right all the wrong things in the world. And maybe Arthur was Amy, wishing she wouldn’t let her anger so easily, so crudely.

“We know you hate it here! We know exactly why you ‘work’ so much every single day! You can’t stand the sight of us!” Morgana had pushed her way out of her seat now, throwing her hands about as she yelled. “I know I was a mistake! I know exactly why you waited until my mother died to admit the truth! All I am is shame to you!”

“Don’t pretend you know more than-” Uther began, matching her every tremor. 

“No! Don’t defend yourself! I see how you look at us! I’ve seen it since I was ten. You look at Arthur like a burden, like his life wasn’t worth hers! I don’t-”

“Shut up already!” Arthur never engaged in these disputes before. He opted for keeping his head down, waiting for things to blow over. But he was sick of Morgana finding all the ways she could simultaneously insult and defend him. He was sick of his father backing him into a corner. He was sick of being bullied by both of them, all the time. 

“I don’t care about any of it!” He yelled, eyes on the table. “I haven’t cared about it for fifteen years.” He looked up at Morgana, who was frozen in place. “You think I don’t know? You think I can’t see that there are more pictures of her than me in the house? You think I don’t understand why we don’t celebrate my birthday? I’m not an idiot!” He slammed his palms against the table. “And I’m not a fucking coward!”

He looked up at Uther, whose blank expression betrayed no emotions. Arthur slumped back into his chair, trying to bite back the regret that surfaced the minute he opened his mouth. Morgana scowled at him and stormed off to her room. Uther remained seated, expressionless. After a minute of silence passed, he continued to eat his breakfast. Arthur strained his ear to hear the window slam shut from Morgana’s room.

“Well, I hope you’re happy.” Uther said, with the same, cold tone as always. Arthur forced himself to get up and go after his sister. 

He pushed open the window, and leaned out to see her already descending the fire escape. There were a million thoughts flying through Arthur’s head. He didn’t know why he intervened this time, what got under his skin so much. He didn’t know why he targeted Morgana instead of their father. He didn’t know where she was going, why she was leaving him alone. 

“Morgana, wait!” She spun around, long black hair whipping around in the wind, catching snowflakes like hairpins. 

“Fuck off, Arthur.” Her eyes were narrowed, face twisted into the trademark Pendragon scowl. “Are you going to let me go to my best friend now or are you taking that from me too?”

Arthur was speechless. He didn’t know how much of Morgana’s resentment was directed at him and how much was at Uther.  _ I guess she just hates me that much _ , he thought bitterly, as she climbed down the fire escape. 

Arthur kept his eyes on the sky, tracing the path of snow. He couldn’t hear Morgana’s feet hit the ground, or see her running up the block to Gwen’s house. He couldn’t follow her. Besides, he doubted how much comfort Gwen would even be able to provide him. She probably thought he was a coward and an idiot, too. He couldn’t go back inside, and face his father, having failed to bring Morgana back. He toyed with the idea of going to Lance’s, but he knew that Christmas day was also one of the only days his father had off, too. It was the one day the two of them could be together. Christmas was important to Lance for all the reasons Uther wanted his children to value it. There were no arguments, no resentments revealed at Lance’s breakfast table. 

Arthur shut the window behind him, and started down the ladder below. It wasn’t that he had nowhere to go, he knew Lance and his father would take him in with open arms. He knew he could ask Leon to pick him up, he could even go to Gaius’ if he needed to. He just couldn’t bring himself to ask any of them for favors. 

He found himself wandering the city. The streets were so empty it looked as though the snow had drowned all the people. Arthur was freezing, in just a sweatshirt and jeans. He wasn’t even wearing boots--the snow seeped through his Converse easily. 

The snow fell harshly on Camelot, nothing like the light dustings of the week before, with little dots of white hitting the ground softly. This was aggressive. It was a force of nature to remind the city that no matter how many skyscrapers and flood channels it built, it could not beat the natural world into submission. Arthur wondered if it was snowing this bad all over the country. If it was snowing this hard where Merlin was, however many miles away Ealdor was. 

Absently, Arthur realized how much he missed his friend. It had only been a week since school let them out, and they watched Merlin get on a bus going five hours into nowhere. He thought about what Merlin would say about what just happened. He’d be on Arthur’s side, of course, but undoubtedly yell at him for going out into a snowstorm without so much as a coat. 

Before realizing what he was even doing, Arthur was dialing Merlin’s number into his cell. It would be fine if he didn’t answer, Arthur reminded himself. He was just calling Merlin because there was nothing else to do but walk around the city and feel sorry for himself. There was no expectation for Merlin to stop whatever he was doing, at one in the afternoon on Christmas Day. He picked up on the third ring. 

“Arthur!” His voice sounded slightly higher than normal through the speaker, but familiar nonetheless. “Merry Christmas!” 

“To you too!” Arthur feigned cheer, trying to emulate whatever joyful situation Merlin was in. He could hear laughter and music playing in the background. Arthur pictured Merlin in some tiny country cottage, surrounded by lights and people dancing. There would be apple cider on the burner of an old stove, probably a fireplace. He imagined Merlin wearing a massive, thickly knit sweater, his cheeks flushed and hair tousled. It was a strange juxtaposition to the blues and greys of Camelot that surrounded Arthur. 

“Arthur?” It was then that he realized Merlin had been speaking to him. 

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” The sounds of Merlin’s house faded, and Arthur heard a door shut. 

“I-” Arthur sighed, mentally beating himself up for calling Merlin in the first place. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Um.” Arthur struggled for the right response. Merlin wasn’t this person. He wasn’t who Arthur went to when things got weird at home, when he wasn’t feeling like himself. That person was Lance, occasionally Gwen. Arthur was that friend for Merlin, the one he could talk about his ever fading infatuation with Lance, the one he could talk to for hours. Arthur never reciprocated. He knew nothing in his life could hold a candle to what Merlin had been through. 

“Arthur?”

“We got into a fight.” He finally settled on saying. 

“You and Morgana?”

“And my dad.”

Arthur folded, telling Merlin everything that had happened. He told Merlin how  _ normal _ it had all been this morning until he brought up Gwen. He found himself slipping, and telling Merlin how guilty he felt about it. Merlin listened to all of it silently, but somehow Arthur could tell that he was really paying attention.

“Where are you now?” Was all Merlin responded at the end of it. 

“On the corner of 3rd and Asgorath.” Arthur heard Merlin huff in distaste. 

“You’re not going back home?”

“Not tonight.”

“Is it still snowing?” Arthur thought about lying, but realized that Merlin would probably check the forecast anyways. 

“Yeah.”

“Will you go to Gwen’s?”

“Can’t. Morgana’s there.”

“Lance?”

“Don’t wanna bother him on his dad’s day off.”

“Leon?”

“Feel weird about telling him this stuff.” Merlin sighed deeply. 

“Can I convince you to go to Gaius’? He won’t tell your dad if you ask him not to.” 

“I don’t wanna go there if you’re not gonna be there.” The words were out of Arthur’s mouth before he could even register the thought. He blinked, in shock at how deep his fondness of his friend ran in his subconscious. Merlin was silent for a moment, and Arthur had half a mind to say he was only kidding. 

“Well you can’t just freeze to death out there. You’ll get hypothermia.”

“Maybe I’m immune to hypothermia.” Arthur countered, “We don’t all have horrible circulation, Merlin.”

“Just go to Gaius.” He pressed, and Arthur heard a certain rawness, a vulnerability in his voice. “Please. For me.”

A series of unbidden images came to Arthur’s mind. Merlin, in the hospital room grinning despite the tears in his eyes. Merlin, somewhere in Ealdor, with a black eye and broken nose. At Leon’s party, his face barely lit up in the backyard by the end of a joint. Kissing Lance, with his eyes closed and mouth open. Stifling his laughter in English with a hand over his mouth, as he read through Arthur’s annotations in whatever book they were reading. 

“Yeah.” Arthur said, filling up the silence, trying to make sense of whatever realization just hit him. “Okay, I’ll go to Gaius.”

“Good.” Merlin said, and Arthur wondered if he could hear the shift in his own tone. 

It took Arthur by complete surprise, realizing that at some point, Merlin had become his best friend. Some point in the last three months, since Leon’s party, Merlin had wormed his way into Arthur’s life. He made himself irreplaceable, no, invaluable. Arthur’s chest almost hurt from missing him so much. He never missed Lance like this, and he’d never been apart from Gwen long enough to miss her this much. So the conclusion was quite plain. 

“You’re my best friend.” He blurted out before his brain could catch up. There was silence, static, on the other end before Merlin responded. 

“You’re my best friend, too.” More silence, more static. The snow had completely soaked through Arthur’s shoes as he picked up his feet and headed towards Gaius’ apartment. 

“I thought Lance was your best friend.” Merlin said after the moment had passed entirely. 

“He is.” Arthur responded, crossing the streets, which were so empty they were unrecognizable. “Or, I don’t know, he was. Sometimes I think he’s moved past me. He’s had to grow up so much faster. I love him, he’s like a brother to me, but sometimes we’re talking and I feel like he’s just staring straight through me. It’s like he’s....” He trailed off, unsure of how exactly to describe that vacant look in Lance’s eyes. 

“He gets...distant. But you know he loves you like a brother, too.”

“Thanks. I know, or I know I should know, I guess.” Static. A couple shouts from Merlin’s end. “How’s your Christmas going?”

“Good! It’s really good.” Merlin responded cheerfully. “My mom and I went over to Will’s. Our moms have spent the past hour passive aggressively insulting each other’s baking. His dad can’t get the stereo to turn off, and we’re just trying to sneak out for a smoke.”

“There’s only five of you there?” Arthur asked, remembering the sheer amount of noise at the beginning of the call. “It sounded like you were at a party.”

“Oh, no. We’re just a loud bunch.” The Pendragons were a loud bunch, too Arthur thought. Just for all the wrong reasons. He pushed open the door to Gaius’ complex. The act should have felt familiar, from all the times this year he’s gone to see Merlin, but it felt different. The whole world felt different, Arthur realized. This morning’s argument wasn’t like all the others, it had changed something about their family permanently.

“Okay, I’m at Gaius.’ If he kills me, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

“That’s fair.” 

“Thanks for answering.” 

“Of course, Arthur. Anytime.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Merlin is mildly concussed and Arthur is incapable of physical contact.

**_Four months later_ **

Merlin could hear Arthur’s voice on the phone with Lance in the kitchen, loud and angry.

“Arthur, it’s really just a concussion. He’s fine.” Lance insisted and Merlin had half a mind to interrupt that he did not feel fine, thank you very much. His head was pounding, he was exhausted as all Hell, and wanted desperately to go back to sleep. 

“It happened last night. We were on our way back from…” Lance faltered and Merlin knew he was debating whether he should tell Arthur that they were with Gwaine, getting high instead of studying. “...a friend’s house when Merlin tripped and hit his head on the curb.”

Arthur’s voice on the phone was more of an irritated buzzing. It reminded Merlin of Will’s chihuahua. 

“Yeah, it was loud.” Buzz, buzz. “Yeah, I stayed with him.” Buzz. “Yeah, we’ve been up all night.”

Arthur buzzed for longer after that, probably lecturing them about one thing or another.

“Gaius already emailed the teachers. They said we can take our exams the first week of summer.” 

“Yeah, I’ve got work today.” Lance said, eyes flicking back to where Merlin lay on the couch. “Yeah, Gwen is too.”

Gwen had started working at the same high-end retail store as Lance half-way through the spring semester. This event, while providing an excellent source of income for Gwen, drove Lance completely out of his mind. His manager had insisted that Lance be the one to train her, since she got hired on his recommendation, and then decided that since they work so well together, he’d coordinate all their shifts. It was simultaneously Lance’s greatest dream and worst nightmare. 

“Yeah, someone probably needs to stay with him. Gaius isn’t off ‘til six in the morning. I can come back when I’m off.”

“I’m fine!” Merlin yelled from the couch, half-heartedly attempting to defend his honor. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Well, Gaius said to make sure he doesn’t fall asleep. And to go to the hospital if he throws up.” Lance continued, refusing to acknowledge Merlin.

“Yeah, if you can come over that would be good. My shift starts at three.” More high-pitched buzzing from Arthur. Merlin shut his eyes, and imagined what Arthur would look like as a chihuahua. He’d probably be bigger than Will’s, and bite more often. Same light colored fur, but Merlin did not want to think about a blue-eyed chihuahua. The image was just too weird. Instead, he pictured Arthur as a bumblebee, since they buzzed too. Arthur would make a delightful bumblebee, he decided, all small and cute and angry.

“Thanks. See you soon.”

“Actually, you do need a babysitter.” Merlin felt the couch dip with Lance’s weight, and the other boy flicked him on the arm. “If you’re going to keep falling asleep.”

“Just resting my eyes.” Merlin said, throwing his arms over his face. He’d gotten the cast off just before Christmas, but he would never again take advantage of having full mobility of his arms. 

“Come on, Merlin.” Lance poked at him again and Merlin grudgingly opened his eyes. “That’s a good kid.”

Merlin scowled at him. There were dark circles underneath his eyes and his hair was a mess, curls matted against the side of his head. Merlin knew he was in a similar state. They spent half the night at Gwaine’s, for what was intended to be a tutoring session but ended with all of them stoned out of their minds playing video games. Then, because Merlin is incapable of going three months without causing bodily harm to himself or others, he tripped and nearly split his head open. He threw up in a trash can before promptly passing out. Then they had to wait for Gaius to get home from his night shift at the hospital, and wait for his diagnosis of….mild concussion. It was a rough night, to say the least. 

Merlin was largely over his feelings for Lance, but occasionally he would do something, like stay up with Merlin all night taking care of him, cuddling with him while they watched terrible movies, that threatened to make it all come back. 

“I feel like shit.” Merlin said, reaching for his glass of water on the coffee table. “Why can’t you just stay with me?” He whined. “Call in sick.”

“You know I can’t do that.” 

“I know.” Merlin grumbled. “Arthur’s gonna make fun of me.”

“Yeah, he will. But, he’ll also watch whatever movies you want and buy you takeout.” Lance offered with a smile. 

“The thought of eating anything makes me sick.” Merlin shuddered. 

“You’ll have to eat something later.” Merlin shuddered again, now at the thought of Arthur in this role. He would replace all of Lance’s gentle suggestions with commands. He’d laugh at Merlin and tease him for hitting his head, probably reprimand him for getting high and going to Gwaine’s in the first place. He’d be all aggressive when Merlin tried to sneak in a nap, instead of gently reminding him not to. 

“Stay.” Merlin whined again, drawing the word out helplessly. 

Merlin adored Arthur, he really did. He was hilarious and clever, and at his core, he was a fundamentally kind person. At the same time, he was still only fifteen and teased Merlin relentlessly. Sure, Merlin teased him right back, he even enjoyed their banter most of the time. But when Merlin was confined to the couch, with a mild brain injury caused by his own inability to walk straight, Arthur was the last person he wanted to see. 

“Arthur won’t be that bad. Honest. I think he’ll surprise you.”

“I have serious doubts about that.” Obviously, Lance had known Arthur a hell of a lot longer than Merlin. However, it was still hard to believe that Arthur wouldn’t be his normal, bossy self when taking care of someone (except Gwen, who was probably the only one who saw a gentler side of Arthur.) 

“Whenever someone gets injured on the field, the soccer field,” He added, at Merlin’s confused expression. “Arthur’s always the first one at their side, helping them to the bench and asking if they’re alright.”

“Huh.” That didn’t really align with Merlin’s picture of Arthur. 

Arthur, who was undoubtedly his best friend by now. Arthur, who was vain at the best of times, downright self-centered at the worst. But, there was probably a reason he was Merlin’s favorite friend, above Lance, with his quiet comfort and stability. Merlin liked Arthur so much for his volatility, for the way injustice fired him up. The way he offered to pay for all of his friends, having a more concrete understanding of class difference than most wealthy kids in the city. The way Arthur stayed up all night, waiting for Morgana to come home after a fight with their dad. Arthur was a good person, it was just a shame that that side only manifested in extreme situations. It was a shame that he had to be like every other teenage boy on ordinary days. 

_

_ “Bite down on this.” Merlin reached to the back of his neck, untying the handkerchief. He wadded it up in his hand and unceremoniously shoved it into Arthur’s mouth.  _

_ “Hrrrrf.” _

_ “Just bite down on it, this is gonna sting, and we can’t have you screaming for all the bandits in the area to come after us, can we?” _

_ Arthur stopped fidgeting and Merlin, but grunted sharply as Merlin pulled the fabric, sticky and wet with blood, away from his skin. The arrow was still in shoulder, the head undoubtedly notched so it would be excruciating to pull out. He pulled the fabric from Arthur’s mouth. _

_ “Do you want me to push it through? Or cut it out?” _

_ “What’s ah-” He coughed, “What’s less painful?”  _

_ “Do you want me to push the arrow through to the other side or cut a hole in your shoulder?” Merlin repeated, “It’s going to hurt no matter what.” _

_ “Push-” Arthur gasped, “Push it through.” _

_ Merlin put the handkerchief back in his mouth, gritting his teeth. Somehow, in two years of studying under Gaius, he wasn’t prepared for this.  _

_ “You’ve been through far worse than this.” He mutters, lifting Arthur to his chest, holding him there. Merlin doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the noise Arthur made as he wrapped his fingers around the arrow, and started pushing. It was low and painful, almost primal, somewhere between a grunt and a wail, like it came from somewhere deep inside of him.  _

_ “Almost there.” He inched it forward a little further, feeling the exhale from Arthur’s nose sharp against the back of his neck. He felt where the arrowhead met the back of Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur’s head slumped against him as the skin tore, and Merlin forced the arrow through, grabbing it from the other side, the blood hot and sticky against his palm and pulling the rest of it through.  _

_ He let Arthur back onto where his jacket was wadded up as a pillow, parts of it already bloodstained. Arthur was still unconscious, giving Merlin enough of a window to cauterize the wound with magic, mutter a quick healing incantation, and set a fire to cover his tracks. Arthur stirred and Merlin collapsed beside him, drained and heaving.  _

_ “When you’re king, we’re not doing this anymore.” _

_

“Merlin, what is the one thing you’re not supposed to do?” Merlin woke up to Arthur’s voice, loud right up against his ear. The sound only made his head hurt worse. 

“Heroin.”

“No. You’re not supposed to be sleeping. Wake up.” Merlin was right to guess that Arthur would be anything but gentle as Arthur thumbed his eyelids open. Merlin swatted at him and pulled himself up into a sitting position. 

“So...I…” He faltered, feeling slightly dizzy from the change in position. “I want to say something about heroin being okay then.”

“Yes, very funny. When did Lance leave?” Merlin wasn’t sure if he hallucinated Arthur straightening out the blankets tangled around his legs. 

“I think. An hour ago.” 

“Sorry I’m late, I got caught up with Gwen.” Arthur said and Merlin really hoped he wouldn’t elaborate on what ‘caught up’ meant. Merlin felt his eyes starting to close and Arthur snapped aggressively. “Hey, keep your eyes open.”

“Don’t wanna. I’m tired and my head hurts.”

“No, shit, Merlin. You’ve got a concussion.” Absently, he waved a hand at Arthur, as if to say ‘Go away’ or ‘You’re being a prat, please cut it out.’ 

“Don’t make fun of me. I hurt.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll wait at least three buisness days.”

“How considerate. Thanks.”

“I brought you curry from that Thai place you like.” Merlin rubbed at his eyes to look at Arthur,  _ really  _ look at him. He was standing in front of the television, almost haloed by the LEDs on the screen. He was wearing an old red sweatshirt over black jeans, with his hair combed neatly out of his face. There was a plastic bag in his hand, the takeout. 

“You know my order?” He asked softly, realizing that at some point he’ll be used to Arthur’s random bursts of compassion.

“Of course I do?” At some point, he will stop being surprised by Arthur. 

“We haven’t been there since Lance’s birthday.”

“It’s not a big deal.” Arthur shuffled his feet, head to the side so he didn’t have to make eye contact when Merlin called him out on being thoughtful. “I just have a good memory for those things.”

Merlin would have laughed, maybe even teased Arthur a little more about it. But being vertical was a lot more work than he signed for. He was starting to feel light-headed, a little nauseous even. The overhead light was too bright, making his head hurt even more. 

“Thank you. But if I eat, I  _ will  _ vomit.” He looked up at Arthur through eyes half-shut.

“You’ve got to eat something. Lance said you haven’t since last night.” Merlin’s stomach churned unpleasantly at the recollection of the greasy pizza they ate at Gwaine’s.

“Don’t wanna. Feels bad.”

“Alright, we can wait a little while on that. But drink some water.”

“Glass is empty.” Merlin gestured to the empty cup on the coffee table, keeping his eyes firmly shut.

“You really are helpless, aren’t you?” Arthur laughed, but Merlin heard his steps to the kitchen. The sound of the faucet filling the glass. 

“You said you wouldn’t make fun.”

“And I’m not.” Arthur’s footsteps got louder as he neared the couch. “Drink this. And make some room.”

Merlin squinted at him, but took the glass anyways. He shifted over to the left side of the couch. 

“Want me to get the lights?” Merlin nodded enthusiastically, but then cringed at the toll it took on his headache. The lights shut off and the couch shifted with Arthur’s weight. He opened his eyes again, to find Arthur staring at him, his face just barely lit up by the TV. All those harsh angles of his silhouette, the curve of his nose, his jaw, outlined in a bluish glow. 

“Watch a movie?” Arthur asked, smiling through his blatant concern.

“I might fall asleep.”

“No, you won’t. C’mon don’t you wanna pull an allnighter? It is our first sleepover, afterall.” Arthur asked with mock-cheer. Sarcastic bastard. 

“I want Lance back.” Merlin wasn’t sure if his concussion was that bad or if Arthur actually looked a little hurt by that.

“What does Lance have that I don’t?” He asked, pouting. “Other than your undying affections.”

“Fuck off. I’m over him”

Arthur looked at him, lips quirked up condescendingly, eyes narrowed.

“Mostly over him. Anyways, Lance cuddles me when we watch movies.” Merlin shuts his eyes again, putting his hands over his face so Arthur can’t see him blush. “And it hasn’t been three buisness days so you can’t say shit, Arthur.”

“That only applies to concussion-related insults. And you wonder why you’re not over him. How is that not leading you on?”

“It’s not because he’ll stop doing it if someone brings that to his attention.” Merlin moves his hands from his face long enough to glare. 

“Okay, whatever you say.” They stay silent for the next few minutes, save Merlin rejecting certain titles as Arthur scrolls through Netflix. They finally settle on an animated children’s film because Merlin doesn’t like how much Arthur jumps in his seat whenever they watch a fight scene. Arthur’s really into violent, gory movies that Merlin likes watching for the dialogue but has to shield his eyes from the violence. The set-up almost works perfectly, except Merlin can’t stand the way Arthur cheers when people get beat hurt.

They’re ten minutes into the movie when Merlin notices Arthur’s head is bent down and he’s biting his lip. Merlin recognizes that as his ‘Should I say whatever nice thing I’ve just thought or will that soil my tough guy reputation?’ face.

“You know, I’m not like the world’s worst cuddler or anything.” He says after a beat of silence and Merlin bursts out laughing, despite how much it hurts his head. 

“I never said you were.”

“Well, it was implied.” Arthur stuck his bottom lip out in a fake pout. Merlin knew he was actually feeling insecure from the way he knotted his fingers together in his lap. At some point in the year of knowing Arthur, Merlin had deciphered his body language completely. Arthur probably didn’t need to speak ever again and Merlin would be able to communicate with him just fine.

“No, it wasn’t. I assumed you wouldn’t cuddle your friend because that would ruin your cool-guy reputation. Thought it would be too gay for you.” Merlin said, facing Arthur and trying to hide the amusement in his expression. 

“It’s only gay if you’re in love with me, which is why it’s very gay when Lance does it.” Arthur settled on saying, and Merlin couldn’t stop himself from laughing until the pain was too much to bear. He did appreciate Arthur not insinuating that he was, in fact, in love with him. What with his ego being so massive, Merlin half expected it. It seemed Arthur was getting a better sense of what was and wasn’t crossing the line.

“Alright, fine. If you’re such a great cuddler, why don’t you prove it?” He smiled at Arthur mischievously, raising a single eyebrow.

“You look like Gaius when you do that.”

“Don’t say that!” Merlin hit him on the arm, hard. “Lance would never say that to me.” He added, just because it was fun to watch Arthur’s eyebrows furrow. 

“Yes, but that’s why  _ I’m  _ your best friend and Lance isn’t.” Arthur smiled, pleased with himself. He put an arm around Merlin awkwardly, and Merlin had to physically restrain himself from laughing even harder. 

“Sure,  _ that’s _ why.” Arthur’s arm hovered lightly on top of his shoulders. His lip was a darker shade of pink, almost red, from how intensely he was biting it. Merlin thought it was rather adorable how nervous this made him. He felt a little bad for finding Arthur’s awkwardness so hilarious, so he leaned into Arthur a little bit more. “Because you constantly compare me to my elderly uncle.”

“And because I’m so charming, of course.” Arthur’s arm relaxed a little bit, and Merlin shifted slightly so that his head was against Arthur’s chest.

“Yes, you’re so very charming when you’re calling me an idiot.” Arthur’s breath caught in his throat when Merlin hooked an arm around his waist. It was strange how skittish physical contact made Arthur. He wondered if he was this awkward with Gwen and how they overcame that. 

“What-what can I say? I speak the truth and nothing but.” He said, quietly and Merlin was starting to wonder if Arthur was seriously hyperventilating. 

“You know what that sounds like?” Merlin asked, taking cruel advantage of Arthur’s neuroticism. 

“What?”

“Something the world’s worst cuddler would say.”

“If you weren’t such an idiot and tripped your head on the concrete I would hit you.”

“What on Earth will you do without the ability to cause me bodily harm?”

“Shut up. I can’t believe you went and concussed yourself on the last day of school.”

Merlin yawned, “It happens.”

“Hey don’t fall asleep on me. We’ve got this movie about, what, birds? Yeah, we’ve got weird, anthropomorphic birds to watch, Merlin.”

“I am tired.” Arthur shifted slightly, so that more of Merlin’s weight was against him. He stretched, right hand coming to rest at Merlin’s shoulder blade. He looked down at Merlin through his eyelashes. 

“Stay awake for me, yeah?” He whispered, and Merlin felt nauseous again, for reasons he was going to push away for a few more months. The way his stomach flipped when he felt Arthur’s breath against his forehead could be excused by the concussion, right? Maybe he was in a coma, hallucinating the entire day.

There was no way he just had a surge of romantic feelings for Arthur. Arthur was stupid and arrogant and played soccer. He got sick shotgunning cans of beers at Leon’s parties, trying to impress the upperclassman. He called Merlin an idiot constantly and hated poetry. He didn’t like punk music and he didn’t like any food that came from a different country. He liked violent movies way too much and made fun of Merlin’s clumsiness. He was  _ Arthur _ for crying out loud. 

“I said stay awake, you ass.” He hit Merlin in the arm, snapping him out of whatever just happened. 

“I am broken! Quit beating me!” Arthur was a dick, afterall, who hit Merlin even when he was concussed.

“Stay awake or I’ll make Morgana come wait on you.”

“Fuck, no. I don’t even want to think about what that would entail.” Merlin imagined it would be a lot of commands, and a lot of yelling. 

“Whatever you’re imagining--it’s worse. When I was ten and home with the flu she poured hot soup all over me.”

“Why?” Merlin laughed, picturing ten year old Arthur, covered in soup, swimming in blankets, all messy-haired and red-nosed. 

“I don’t even remember, come to think of it. All I remember was being really cold and not showering until my dad said he could smell rotten chicken on my clothes.”

“Ew.”

“I was sick! And ten!”

“Excuses, excuses.” Merlin tutted, turning his attention back to the movie, feeling content in spite of his throbbing headache. He turned to the side, and extended his legs, Arthur’s arm tightened around him, just barely. 

_

_ Merlin woke up to Arthur’s hand on his. Not holding it, or tapping it, just resting lightly.  _

_ “What did you do to me?” Arthur croaked, his head slumped over in Merlin’s direction, eyes half closed. _

_ “I cauterized the wound with a hot knife.” With my bare hands.  _

_ “I feel like my arm’s on fire.” _

_ “It’s not.” _

_ “Well it feels like it.” _

_ Merlin rolled over, deciding that at some point before they head back to Camelot, he should scrub the dried blood off of Arthur’s chest.  _

_ He sat up, grabbed the handkerchief that he’d taken out of Arthur’s mouth an hour ago, and dumped his canteen on it.  _

_ “Please don’t.” _

_ “Just let me.” Merlin said, placing the cloth against Arthur’s bare chest.  _

_ “It’s demeaning.” He choked out, the breath caught in his throat.  _

_ ‘No,’ Merlin wanted to say, ‘it’s devotion.’ _

_ “Just let me do what servants do.” He said instead, dragging the fabric, trying not to remember how fresh the blood looked at first glance.  _

_ “No other servant,” Arthur gasped, as Merlin rang the cloth out over him, cold water hitting his skin. “Has to do this.” _

_ “Guess I’m just lucky then.” He smiled down at Arthur, at the wound in his shoulder healing suspiciously quickly.  _

_ “That’s one word for it.” _

_ _ _

Gaius came home by the time they were on their fourth movie, and said Merlin was free to go to sleep. Arthur, the lazy bastard, had fallen asleep halfway through the third movie, arm wrapped firmly around Merlin’s waist. Merlin was just finally on his way to much needed rest, when he felt Arthur’s breath stir, his arm tighten, then loosen. Then start to shake as he tightened it again. 

“Merlin?” He whispered. “Are you awake?”

“Shhh.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“What?” Merlin snapped his open. 

“Am I a horrible cuddler?” Merlin felt the laughter die in his throat, as he looked up at Arthur. He was staring at the darkened television screen, eyes scarcely lit by the kitchen window. His hair, catching that light in its brighter, almost platinum streaks. He looked scared, fingers tapping anxiously against Merlin’s side. More than anything, though, he looked...young. He was nearly as muscular as all the upperclassmen on the soccer team, and nearly as tall. He talked himself up all the time, his ego impossible to reconcile. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Merlin forgot he was only fifteen. A little under a year older than Merlin himself. 

“Arthur?”

“I don’t… I don’t know. I don’t  _ touch  _ people, like that. Not even Gwen.” Merlin tried to picture Arthur, as a child, growing up without a mother and with Uther for a father. He couldn’t quite picture Uther snuggling his children, tucking them in and coddling them the way Hunith did Merlin. Morgana wasn’t one for physical contact either, always shying away from Gwen’s outstretched hand and Merlin’s reassuring hand on her shoulder. 

“I just-It’s weird.” He whispered. “She’ll go to touch me and I’ll flinch. I don’t-” He ran a shaky hand through his hair. “I don’t know why I’m like this. I try to be normal around her, like-like how a boyfriend should be, but she stopped trying. She said she didn’t mind.”

Merlin tried to imagine what it was like for Gwen, dating Arthur. If she tried to hug him and he went stiff in her arms. If they ever slept in the same bed, if they did more than that. He wondered if Arthur had ever been held, if he didn’t let Gwen hold him. 

“But I think she does.” He whispered, and looked down at where Merlin laid against his chest. 

Merlin sat up, feeling strangely bold in this moment of intimacy. In the dark, with mild brain trauma…all of this could be blamed on the brain trauma. He looked at Arthur, at the tremor in his hands, the stiffness of his jaw, and put an arm around him. Just slung over his shoulder, like when they walked home from school. This was much different, Merlin thought, as he pulled Arthur against his chest, wrapping both arms around him. Arthur went slack, laying against Merlin’s chest, hands still shaking. Merlin wondered how much of a stretch it would be if he grabbed Arthur’s trembling hands, wrapped them in his own. 

“It’s okay.” Merlin whispered when Arthur stiffened, his hands in Merlin’s.

“I can hear your heartbeat.” Arthur whispered, grip tightening on Merlin’s hands ever so slightly. Merlin laughed, releasing one of Arthur’s hands and moving it to his hair, stroking absently. Only it wasn’t absent because Merlin was painfully aware of every movement, every breath they both took. They didn’t say anything after that, just sprawled out on the couch, arms wrapped up in each other. Merlin was having a hard time convincing himself that this was platonic, that the surge of warmth in his chest was just love for Arthur, his best friend. 

Arthur, his best friend. Arthur, whose breathing was getting quieter, laying in Merlin’s lap like it didn’t mean anything. Whose lips curled into a small smile when Merlin ran his nails through his hair, like it meant everything. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Merlin's injury seems far-fetched, I would like to say that it is based on my own experiences. Imagine going to Hawaii and getting a concussion the first day you're there, after tripping over concrete. Anyways, if you haven't cuddled your straight best friend in the middle of a sleepover, trying to convince yourself that it's platonic, have you even lived?
> 
> Stay safe guys! <3


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pretty terrible summer so far, if Arthur's honest with himself.

**_One month later (midsummer)_ **

“Arthur?”

He kept his eyes fixed on Gwen’s ceiling, at the glow in the dark stars that had been strewn up randomly years ago. At the fan, blades rimmed in thick trims of dust, whirling the hot air around the room. 

“Arthur?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you been listening at all?” 

“Yes. You were talking about Elena trying out for the softball team and you’re worried that it’ll distract from her grades.”

“Okay,” She frowned, turning on her side to face him. “What’s going on with you?”

There a million things that Arthur could have said. He wanted to say something about Merlin being gone for the summer, or Lance working full-time. He wanted to ask her what Lance was like at work, if he treated her like a friend or a coworker. 

“How come we haven’t had sex?” Is what comes out of his mouth instead, and he immediately places his hand over his mouth, horrified. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I-”

“You never seem like you want to.” Gwen says, gently tearing his hands from his face.

“Oh.” He doesn’t know why he said it in the first place. Maybe it had something to do with Merlin spending his last week in Camelot with Gwaine, or Morgana spending time at Leon’s house. Or Lance, holed up in a broom closet with Mithian at Leon’s birthday last year. 

“Do you?” She asked, setting a light hand on his shoulder. He was getting used to the physical contact, after a year of dating her. But her hands still made Arthur nervous. They were warm, and he felt like he was being electrocuted any time someone wrapped their arms around him. His mind flipped back Merlin, just for a moment, before he answered Gwen.

“I don’t know.” He said slowly, and Arthur suddenly felt as though his mouth were full of sand. The truth was that he didn’t want to have sex with her, he didn’t want to have sex with anybody right now. The thought kind of scared him, made him feel like he was growing up too fast. 

“That’s okay.” She rolled onto her back, expression unreadable. “I get it.”

They sit in silence and Arthur traces the silhouette of her face with his eyes, counting the freckles he can see in the dim light. Her air conditioning cut out two days ago, but Arthur couldn’t stand the thought of being in his apartment, not with Morgana out all the time.

“Why’d you ask me out?” She says suddenly, voice sharply cutting through the darkness. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, why did want you to date me? Why  _ do _ you want to date me?” Arthur props himself up on his left elbow, looking down at her. Her voice is firm, almost challenging, but the hurt look on her face betrays it. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” He pushes himself up, legs on either side of her, gazing down. He can’t stop staring at the way her hair curls around her jaw, the way the front pieces frame her face. “You’re smart, beautiful. You call me out on all my bullshit. Everyone adores you, even my father. You’re perfect.”

“You mean it?”

“I do.”

He leans down to kiss her, wondering why it feels different from all the other times. 

_

_ “Gaius tells me you’ve been spending a lot of time at the tavern.” Arthur says, and Merlin’s hand freezes where it lays on his chest, unfastening the armor.  _

_ “And?” He asks quietly, before resuming.  _

_ “And I’m wondering why.”  _

_ “I’m allowed to have friends, Arthur.” The words come out of his servant’s mouth stifled, almost guilty. Part of Arthur wants to say ‘No, no you’re not. You’re mine, and only mine.’ He wants to express that strange manifestation of affection--the claim on his servant. He doesn’t. Never has, probably never will.  _

_ “I know.” He mumbles instead and it’s almost worse. It’s admitting everything he shouldn’t feel and Merlin shouldn’t know. _

_ Merlin peels the chainmail from his body, then the clothing. Arthur wonders if it is the very nature of this servantry that makes it intimate, or if it is the care that Merlin puts into it.  _

_ Merlin draws the bath quickly, and Arthur can’t help but stare at his reflection all the while. The wound on his shoulder, where Merlin pulled an arrow through his body without flinching, has healed nicely. It is still red and bandaged but the movement doesn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. He used to do this as a boy, as a teenager. Sometimes he would spend hours in front of the mirror, searching for a future king in his childish form. Now he looks at himself, scarred in odd places, lean with muscle, and struggles to see even a prince.  _

_ He’s always felt it in his blood, something in his veins commanding greatness, the untapped potential he’s always had. He just can’t seem to figure out how to reach it, wherever it lies within himself. Occasionally he feels as though he’s tapped into it, that he’s figured out the secret, the code to what makes a good man. That is always in battle, when there are sure results of his victory or failure.  _

_ He feels like a failure most of the time. Like he is perpetually disappointing whatever force is within him, like he’s never fully reaching himself.  _

_ “Stop thinking so loud.” Merlin mutters, running the washcloth along his back so gently it’s agonizing.  _

_ “Shut up, Merlin.” _

_ Then there is Merlin, whose approval meant more than Arthur’s own, more than his father’s sometimes. There was a mystery about his servant, a secret depth there that he only let show when Arthur was at his most alone.  _

_ “I mean it. You’re going to wake the entire bloody kingdom and then some. Everyone will wake up and wonder ‘what is that awful sound in my head?’ And then you’d have to give a speech apologizing for-” _

_ “Merlin.” _

_ “Oh, just laugh already.”  _

_ Arthur did.  _

_ _ _

“You’re asking me if I think  _ you  _ should get a  _ job _ ?” Merlin asked incredulously. At least Arthur assumed he was incredulous-the microphone on his ancient cell phone had terrible sound quality. 

“Yeah, a job.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I am not!” Arthur insisted, swinging his legs beneath him from where he sat on the fire escape outside of Morgana’s room. 

“Why would you  _ want  _ a job?”

“Lance and Gwen are working all the time. And then when we hang out they keep laughing about  _ co-workers  _ and people I don’t know. Not to mention that there’s nothing to do all day.” Arthur lamented. “Can you just come back already?”

“And leave my poor mother for another year? She’d go crazy, Arthur.” Arthur wondered if his own mother would be so clingy as Hunith if she were around. If she would cry on the nights when Arthur was gone, like her whole world was askew. He liked to think that she would, that she would have been exactly the kind of caring mother he pined so desperately for. 

“Fine, stay there. If you were back you’d probably just spend all your time with  _ Gwaine  _ anyways.” Arthur huffed, and flicked a pebble off the landing just to watch it fall to the ground. 

“C’mon, I don’t give you shit when you hang with Gwen.” Merlin insisted, just as he had the last week he was here. 

“It’s different.”

“It most certainly is not. I don’t think you’d pass up the chance of a blowjob just to watch movies with  _ me. _ ” Merlin said, and Arthur cringed at the vulgarity. 

“Don’t be disgusting, Merlin.”

“Please, it’s just sex, Arthur.” God, wasn’t that what everyone kept saying? ‘It’s just sex, Arthur’ like it’s a perfectly good excuse to ignore your friends. 

“Shut up, Merlin.” 

“Don’t be like that.”

“I can and will be like that if I want to be.” Arthur pouted. This was shaping up to be a pretty terrible summer, all things considered. Merlin sighed.

“Do you want me to come back for your birthday?” He asked, and Arthur couldn’t help but grin. 

“Yes.” 

“Fine, but only if Leon’s hosting the party.” He said but Arthur knew he’d come no matter what, even if it was just the two of them watching gangster movies until they couldn’t keep their eyes open any longer. (Which sounded like a pretty pleasant way to spend his birthday regardless.)

“He most certainly is.” Leon and Arthur’s friendship had definitely soured a little bit when Morgana started going out with him. Arthur made it a point not to voice his immense disapproval, especially with him being two years older than her. He still made an effort to hang out with Arthur when he could, and invite the rest of their friends to his (admittedly, legendary) parties. 

“Will’s gonna be pissed, though. Promised him I wouldn’t leave early since I waited a week after school got out.”

“Well Will’s a bit of a dick then because I’m bored and I want my best friend back.” Maybe a part of Arthur resented Will for being Merlin’s friend for longer, for being closer to him. He recognized that it was completely unfair, especially given that Lance had been Arthur’s friend for ages. Still, a part of him wanted to be Merlin’s only friend (even if he recognized how cruel that sounded.) He wanted to be the first one to hear Merlin’s stories, his jokes. He wanted to be the one Merlin called when he was hurt or in trouble, or bored. It was rather alarming, Arthur thought, and quite terrifying how close he’d gotten Merlin in the past year. How attached he’d gotten, without meaning to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this appallingly short chapter. Online school is 453653x more demanding than I expected it to be. Hope you're all doing okay, and staying safe. <3


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shenanigans in preparation for Arthur's birthday.

It was a horrible thing to think on Merlin’s part for sure, but he never really saw the appeal of Gwen before. He always thought she was nice, pretty, and easy-going. But for the entire year he’s known her, there was little else he could say about her. 

That is, until she and Lance picked him up from the bus station. It was like a scene from a movie, the way she slowly rolled down the passenger side window of Lance’s beat-up sedan, hair stuck to her forehead with sweat, but beaming at him like it was Christmas. She was wearing a bright red lipstick and a ridiculous oversized neon ski jacket. She didn’t look particularly radiant or anything, but Merlin thought she looked far more comfortable than he’d ever seen her. 

“Get in!” She yelled across the parking lot and Merlin could see Lance, hair similarly plastered to his face from the sweltering summer heat, smiling behind the wheel. He ran across the lot, trudging along with a suitcase full of almost everything he owned. It had only been a few months since he last saw them, but two and a half months only interacting with his mom and Will was tiring, to say the least. 

“Merlin!” Gwen shouted as he slid into the back seat. “Welcome back!”

“It’s good to see you, man!” Lance smiled in the rear view mirror, and Merlin couldn’t help but notice how right it felt to have Gwen beside him up front instead of Morgana.

“Good to see you too, guys!” Merlin said cheerfully, chest getting warm with the exhilarating reminder that he actually had friends who cared about him in Camelot. 

“So, I know you told Gaius you’d be home later tonight,” Gwen started immediately, hoop earrings bouncing as she gestured with her hands. “But Lance and I are running a little bit behind schedule.” 

Lance smiled sheepishly, cheeks flaring red as soon as she said their names together. Merlin did rather think that ‘Lance and Gwen’ had a nice ring to it. 

“Unfortunately, you are now kidnapped and will be helping us for the rest of the night!” Merlin laughed, said something about not minding, but mostly he couldn’t stop wondering why he hadn’t seen this manic, giddy version of Gwen whenever the four of them hung out. Arthur had mentioned that she was shy, but surely that wouldn’t be the case when she was with her best friends and boyfriend?

“Our first stop:” She began, smiling mischievously. “Will be  _ Camelot Guitars. _ ” 

Merlin was about to ask why when Lance asked cheerfully, “What do we need?”

“Fog machines!” Gwen answered enthusiastically. 

“What do we need?”

“Laser projector...thing-ies!”

“What should we buy?”

“Strobe lights!”

“Well that was...rehearsed.” He commented and the two of them dissolved into fits of laughter. For what felt like the millionth time in the last half hour, Merlin noticed how much more relaxed, how much more fun Lance was when he was with Gwen. 

“It’s this thing we do at work,” Gwen explained between giggles. “While we’re doing inventory. We have to call the numbers out in a rhyme.”

“Well we don’t have to,” Lance said, and Merlin could feel his own chest tightening with the fondness in the look he gave Gwen. “It’s just more fun when we do.”

“It sounds silly but it makes the time go by a lot faster. Lance is really good at it. I’ll be like ‘how many shirts?’ and he’ll yell back ‘forty-three, sir!’ and I don’t know, he’s just really clever with that sort of thing-you know?”

Merlin didn’t know, not at all. The Lance he knew, his close friend, was serious to a fault and flicked Merlin in the arm for his stupider jokes. He was stiff-lipped and overly polite. He never teased Merlin about his clumsiness, never even cracked a joke about Merlin’s past feelings for him. He was an upstanding citizen, and Merlin found it wildly hard to believe that a goofier version of him existed. 

They arrived at the music store by nine PM, thirty minutes before closing, and received many dirty looks from the staff as they ran through the store. As soon as they got back to the car, each carrying a bag of small machines, Gwen started telling Merlin exactly what her plan for Arthur’s birthday was. 

“So the thing is-” She began reapplying her lipstick in the mirror. “-and I know Lance didn’t tell you this. But we need to be back at Arthur’s by midnight, right when he turns sixteen.”

“Okay so?” Merlin said, checking his phone for the time. “That gives almost three hours.”

“Here’s the catch-” She capped the lipstick tube and leaned over the back of the seat. “We have two more stores to get to and then we have to drop everything off at Leon’s, get Morgana and come back.”

Merlin remembered from last year that Leon lived almost forty minutes outside the city. Which meant it would take at least an hour and half there and back.

“That isn’t ideal.” Was all he said, but mostly because Merlin never understood the big deal about birthdays at midnight. He figured, unless you were actually born at midnight, the time didn’t really matter. Arthur wouldn’t be any more sixteen at midnight than he was at eleven-fifty. 

“Exactly!” She exclaimed. “It isn’t ideal! So we need to get a move on!” She shoved an arm at Lance who gradually sped up as they approached the green light. Merlin was floored by how casually she touched him like that, and how Lance was not visibly freaking out when it happened. A lot had changed in two and a half months, Merlin thought, feeling sorry that he missed it. 

The next stop was a grocery store, where Merlin watched in shock as Lance used his father’s ID to buy copious amounts of alcohol. 

“I can’t believe that actually worked.” Merlin whispered loudly as soon as they left the store. Lance and Gwen laughed in response. 

“We’ve been doing that all summer.” Lance said, as the only explanation of what was so funny. Merlin fought the urge to feel hurt by how much his friend had changed since he left. How much he missed out on by going home. 

They took forty minutes buying beers (and Smirnoff Ices at Merlin and Gwen’s insistence), which left them two hours for the next store and the trip to Leon’s. The next stop wasn’t even a store, it was just to Lance’s house to return his dad’s ID and grab Arthur’s gift. 

Lance had gotten him a “sculpture” of a deflated soccer ball he’d made a cast of using quick-dry cement. Merlin remembered last year when Arthur had spent an entire week fuming and dodging insults after he kicked a ball so hard it hit the back wall and popped during a game. The three of them had made fun of him mercilessly, especially Lance as he was the only one who actually witnessed the game. 

Gwen then told Merlin that she had made Arthur a scrapbook with a hand-sewn cover. He told her how sweet that was, internally thinking that it’s exactly the type of gift Gwen would give Arthur. Until, of course, she pulled it out of her backpack. It was definitely a scrapbook, thickly packed with pictures of the two of them, no doubt. However, meticulously embroidered on the cover was a deflated soccer ball underneath Arthur’s neatly sewn name. 

“We decided to make it a theme.” She laughed, and Merlin tried not to feel excluded. A dozen, equally hilarious deflation-themed gifts popped into Merlin’s head. Alas, all he’d gotten Arthur was a boxed DVD set of mafia movies and a promise for a movie night. 

_

_ The Crystal Cave lingered with Merlin for months after his visit. The vision had left him feeling drained and paranoid, even after he stopped Morgana from killing Uther. It was unsettling because the whole affair had left him with sympathy for Morgana, despite it all.  _

_ He wondered why it was that visions of the future were never good. He thinks of all her visions of death and war, plots against herself and against Arthur, since she was a young girl. It was easy to feel disheartened. Merlin found himself feeling nihilistic after seeing just a few glimpses of the future--a future he’d prevented, even.  _

_ He made it through his chores throughout the week, quieter than normal. He stayed vigilant, although part of him couldn’t help but wonder why. What the point was, if the future is always going to be rife with struggle and bloodshed. He’ll protect Arthur, that much he knows can never change, but only until something stronger than even him comes along. How close was the Questing Beast’s bite, anyways? Merlin couldn’t just go bargaining life and death, murdering, everytime Arthur suffered a mortal blow.  _

_ The most distressing part, was that Merlin knew he would. If there was no other way, if it happened again, if it happened several times again, Merlin would always be ready to trade his life for Arthur’s. There wasn’t much to it without him anyways.  _

_ The thought was sweet, perhaps, knowing that he couldn’t live without Arthur. Except, Merlin knew that he literally had no purpose without Arthur. Magic had created him solely to serve Arthur, to protect him, and nothing else. So many men pondered the meaning, the driving purpose behind life, and Merlin had it all spelled out. For him, the answer to everything is Arthur.  _

_ Perhaps more distressingly, he knows that Arthur is worth all of the strife torment. Arthur is worth Merlin’s life, probably a thousand times over. He’s a better man, royalty aside, than Merlin will ever be.  _

_ Merlin knew that if their situations were reversed, Arthur wouldn’t even hesitate in his decisions. He would know what to do about Morgana instantly and he would bear the burden much better.  _

_ That’s just who Arthur is. He’s a leader, in everything. He makes choices without flinching, even when he doubts himself. Duty isn’t a cross on Arthur’s back, it is more like the armor he wears. He uses the responsibilities, the expectations looming over him as motivators to do better, to be better.  _

_ After four years, this is probably the slowest realization Merlin has had regarding his prince’s character. He knew Arthur was strong and a good strategizer, that much was common knowledge. Privately, Merlin knew also that Arthur was vulnerable and sometimes felt so stifled by expectations he thought it would be better to die young, before he could fail to meet them. At some point Merlin had figured out that it’s not the expectations weighing Arthur down.  _

_ Although he would never admit it, Arthur isn’t afraid of failing as a king or a prince--he’s afraid of failing to be a good man.  _

_

They arrived at Leon’s house, after a long car ride full of inside jokes Merlin didn’t understand. He hoped that once Morgana joined them, the dynamic would start to feel more normal. Morgana answered Leon’s door, in a leather jacket and a long braid pulled to the side. Her make-up was dark and striking, her demeanor the same as ever. Merlin was pleased to see that not everything had completely changed in the time he was gone. Of course, Morgana was now dating Leon, which was new but expected, at least. 

They left Leon’s house with a promise to return early tomorrow to help set up for the party. The drive back was comfortably soundtracked to Morgana’s playlists, at obscene volumes even if she did sit next to Merlin in the back seat. 

She didn’t say much to him beyond the initial greeting of “I was expecting you to come back in a full body cast.” Except every time Lance and Gwen would laugh over something the other said, she’d turn to Merlin and give him a distinctive look--somewhere between dread and complacency. 

She was in the middle of one such look when Merlin’s phone started ringing and he frantically shouted at everyone to keep quiet and turn the music off. It was a struggle, even after Merlin had shouted that Arthur was on the phone, to keep everyone quiet as they raced back to the city, with twenty minutes on the clock. 

“Hi, Arthur.” Merlin said quietly, holding a finger to his mouth as Morgana and Gwen stared anxiously. 

“Hey.” Was the response, in a feeble and very  _ un- _ Arthur voice. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping? Isn’t your ticket for like seven AM?” 

He asked, and Merlin felt a little guilty at the lie, when Arthur sounded so upset on the other line. 

“Yeah.” He swallowed, and the girls kept mouthing ‘What’s he saying’ and ‘Speakerphone!’ at him. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Me either.”

“At least you have a reason,” Merlin joked and waved a hand at the other two. “Mr. Sixteen in less than an hour.”

Arthur laughed dryly, almost hysterically, before deadpanning. “Yeah, sixteen in eighteen minutes. I can’t wait” 

“Well, don’t sound too excited.” There was no real way for Merlin to respond to this. There was nothing he could say to Arthur, who sounded pained and alone and was calling Merlin twenty minutes before his birthday. Not when he was currently traveling sixty miles an hour trying to make it to him in time. 

“Oh, believe me, I am not.”

“Is-is there a reason you called?” Merlin asked tentatively, feeling awkward and strange about having this conversation in front of all their friends. Even if they couldn’t hear the disturbing detachment in Arthur’s tone, his sarcastic laughter that scared Merlin more than he wanted to admit. 

“I-yeah. Yeah, there is.,” Arthur said and Merlin could vividly picture the way his head was leaned down, avoiding eye contact as he said something even slightly vulnerable. “It’s stupid but I was hoping you could stay on the line until midnight.”

Merlin bit back the need to gasp, trying to remind himself that that request held nowhere near as much gravity as he thought it did. It was just because he knew Gwen was busy. That’s why he was even calling Merlin in the first place, as a steady second, maybe third choice. 

“You don’t have to--if you’re busy.” Arthur started and for the first time tonight Merlin wished that he was back home in Ealdor. He wished he was laying in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, at the stick-on stars his mother had placed into constellations while he talked to Arthur for hours, on his birthday. He wished that he had the chance to share whatever rare, vulnerable moment this could be with Arthur. But Gwen and Morgana were staring at him expectantly. 

“I-I’m sorry, Arthur.” The words did not come willingly. He felt the guilt already gnawing at his chest. Fifteen minutes left. “I have to go.” 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur turns sixteen and there is coffee, a serenade, and a pillow fort.

Arthur took another sip from his coffee, which he had let cool to a rather unpleasant lukewarm temperature. Not quite cold enough to truly accent his misery, and not hot enough to be a comfort. 

The night was hot and heavy with smoke. Somewhere in the country there was fire and the Camelot skyline insisted on being shrouded in grey for the rest of the week. The metal grate of the fire escape’s platform, just outside his sister’s room, dug uncomfortably into Arthur’s thighs. Several floors beneath him, Aithusa was climbing up and down the ladder, giving Arthur a heart attack everytime he heard a loud noise. 

His father hadn’t come home from work, and Arthur knew he wasn’t going to be back until Thursday, after the date had passed entirely. 

He wanted to be angry-he really did-but the way Uther’s gaze lingered on Ygraine’s photos as he walked along the hallway in the mornings quenched all anger Arthur felt towards him. He tried to imagine losing Gwen like that, and shuddered at the thought. 

He made himself the coffee after Merlin hung up. There was fifteen minutes to go then and if he didn’t have anyone with him the minute he turned sixteen, he could pretend the warmth of the mug was a friend’s hand. He hated how at some point, he had stopped making coffee for his father and started making it twice as often for himself. They both took it black, hated every sip, and used it like a crutch. 

He checked his phone. 11:59 PM. One minute to go. Some idiot was singing obnoxiously beneath him, and Arthur guessed it was fitting that the first voice he should hear on his sixteenth birthday was some drunk asshole singing about-

“ You're only sixteen but you're my teenage queen!” Arthur nearly spat out his coffee as he clamored to his feet. 

“You're the prettiest, the loveliest girl I've ever seen!” He leaned over the edge of the balcony, and couldn’t help the breathless laughter that escaped him as he looked down. Impossibly, Merlin was standing there, clad in one of his stupid blazers (the horrible red and green plaid one) and singing (screaming) up at Arthur. 

“Sixteen candles in my heart will glow-” Arthur heard the window open behind him, and found Morgana’s arms wrapped around him, just briefly. Then she let go and Gwen’s arms snaked around his waist, her head falling right at the nape of his neck. He laughed again, hearing Merlin flounder for the rest of the song’s lyrics. 

“Fuck it! You’ll never appreciate the romance of it anyways!” Arthur walked back to the edge of the balcony, grabbing Gwen’s hand in his. He peered down at his best friend. 

“You’re a filthy liar, Merlin! Seven AM bus! As if!”

“Happy birthday, asshole!”

“Just come up already, drama queen!” 

Arthur couldn’t stop smiling as Gwen led him back into the house, where Lance was sitting at the kitchen counter, pouring himself the rest of Arthur’s french press. 

“I fucking hate you guys.” Arthur said, remembering the betrayal he had felt when all three of them told him they wouldn’t be able to come over tonight. 

“No you don’t.” Morgana responded, her hand ruffling Arthur’s hair. He swatted at it, trying to feign anger and failing miserably. 

“You really don’t.” Gwen added, stepping on her tip-toes to kiss Arthur’s cheek. 

“You’re all rat-bastards who don’t deserve my friendship.” 

“Even me?” Merlin, panting asked from the doorway. He must have sprinted to get there so soon, even with Aithusa perched on his shoulder, nuzzling the side of his head. 

“Especially you.” Arthur responded, biting back the desire to greet him in the doorway. “You hung up on me! On my birthday!”

“It wasn’t your birthday yet. And it’s technically still not. Morgana said you were born in the afternoon.”

“Not that you even needed to ask. His rising sign is so obviously Capricorn.”

“Shut up, Morg.” Arthur rolled his eyes at that, trying to mask his irritation. Morgana had been into astrology as long as she’d been able to read, and somehow, like everything, it managed to be a sore spot between them. Arthur hated anything that made assumptions about him-as if his birthday meant anything regarding who he is as a person. It was ridiculous, and at times offensive. He didn’t need to see her face to know that she was mouthing “Such a Virgo” at Gwen behind his back.

“So, birthday boy.” Lance interrupted, sensing Arthur’s irritation, as he poured creamer into his coffee. Morgana hated coffee, Gwen preferred only to drink it when she was tired, so Lance was really the only reason they even kept creamer in the fridge. “What do you want to do?”

Arthur thought about it for a moment. The party was tomorrow night, and he didn’t trust himself to get drunk two nights in a row without consequence. He didn’t really want to leave the house, since the city was still covered in a thin layer of smoke. 

“I think I wanna watch a movie.” 

“Really?” Morgana asked, clearly disappointed. At this exact time the year before, they had driven out to the suburbs for slushies, and Arthur kissed Lance on the mouth. He was so desperate for a real, authentic, “teenage” experience then. Now, despite it all, Arthur just wanted to lay on his couch, blast the air conditioning and watch overly violent movies with his friends. 

“Yeah.”

They spent the next hour constructing an elaborate pillow and blanket fort that stretched all the way across the living room. In the hour following their triumph over the fort’s completion, they argued about what movie to watch. 

“Merlin, it’s  _ my  _ birthday!”

“Yes but in case you hadn’t noticed there are three other people here.”

“Three people who don’t want to see  _ Captain America  _ for the millionth time.” Morgana added as Gwen unbraided and braided her hair. 

“It’s a cinematic masterpiece!” Arthur alleged in the face of Merlin’s raised eyebrow. Damn kid was almost a clone of Gaius sometimes. 

“It’s a shitty action movie.”

“It’s a heart-wrenching story about the triumph of human spirit!”

“Arthur, I’m not watching another WWII movie about a white guy as long as long as I live.” Gwen said and that was the end of it. 

“Fine.” Arthur grumbled. 

They watched  _ The Lorax  _ and everyone except him and Merlin fell asleep within the first half hour. Gwen, with her head on Morgana’s shoulder and Lance, eerily, sleeping completely upright as though he were still watching the movie. On Arthur’s right, he could see Merlin mouthing along with the dialogue.

“How is it that we ended up watching  _ your  _ favorite movie on  _ my  _ birthday?”

“Because I’m whimsical and they all like me more.” Merlin said without taking his eyes off the screen. Aithusa sits in his lap, and he’s absently petting her so  _ gently  _ that Arthur feels a slight pain in his chest. He can’t help but think back to the last day of school, when they were laying in complete darkness, complete silence, and Merlin was petting  _ his  _ head like that. It was strange, and rather unnerving, for Arthur to realize that he was jealous of his own cat. It was even more unnerving to realize that he had spent the past two minutes staring at Merlin instead of the TV screen, and Merlin’s gaze had flicked over to him with the corners of his lips quirked up in a question Arthur  _ really  _ didn’t want to answer. 

In the end, he didn’t need to answer and Merlin didn’t need to ask-he just reached an arm around Arthur’s shoulders and pulled him against his chest. Arthur froze, the entire right side of his body going numb, tingly in all the places touching Merlin. But then, there was a hand in his hair, lightly, stroking it affectionately and Arthur couldn’ t stop himself from leaning into the touch. He hadn’t realized how much he missed this feeling, how much he craved it over the past two months. 

It wasn’t that he was never close to Gwen. It wasn’t that they  _ didn’t  _ cuddle. It was more that whenever they cuddled it always turned into making out and there was always the question of ‘what comes next’ hovering over them. It stressed Arthur out, that feeling like he was supposed to be doing something more, that Gwen wanted something more and he couldn’t give it to her. 

With Merlin, it was different. With Merlin, there weren't any expectations or looming questions. It was definitely weirder, and Arthur had to make the conscious effort to slow his breathing as his heart raced. He had to make the effort to tell himself that this wasn’t  _ that  _ strange for the rest of the movie. By the end of it, Merlin was softly singing along to “Let it Grow” and some of Arthur’s anxieties had subsided. 

“You really have a terrible singing voice.” Arthur whispered.

“Are you telling me you didn’t like my serenade earlier?” Merlin responded, and the credits rolled onto the screen. The movie was over but he didn’t make any move to let go of Arthur. “I thought it was very romantic.”

“You don’t have a romantic bone in your body, Merlin.”

“I  _ beg  _ to differ.” Merlin laughed, and the hand Arthur’s hair flicked the back of his head harshly. 

“Sure, Merlin. I bet there’s millions of guys just waiting to get their chance with you.” 

“Hey! Don’t be mean!” Another flick. It didn’t hurt but Arthur flinched anyways, just for dramatic effect. “I have a boyfriend, you know.”

“You what?” Arthur pulled himself out of Merlin’s grasp to stare incredulously at his friend. 

“Gwaine?” Merlin said and Arthur felt something harden inside of him. 

“You’re  _ dating Gwaine?” _

“I think so? Kind of?”

“But he’s a dick!”  _ And he got me moved from offense _ , Arthur wanted to add but knew it wouldn’t help his argument. 

“He’s funny.”

“He’s a delinquent.”

“Maybe I don’t mind that.” Merlin’s expression darkened at that. “Like seeks like, you know.”

“Merlin don’t be ridiculous.” It was Arthur’s turn to flick the back of his head. “You’re not a delinquent.”

“Why not? I smoke when I get the chance, skip class all the time and I failed two classes last year. Gwaine might skip all the time but his grades are perfect.”

“You failed a class?” Was all Arthur could respond, disbelieving. That was apparently the wrong thing to say, based on the way Merlin’s face contorted. 

He was also stuck on the thought of Gwaine having ‘perfect grades.’ That part just didn’t make sense. Arthur could count on one hand the number of times he’s seen Gwaine in class. 

“I failed Advanced Chem and History.”

“Oh.” Arthur hadn’t actually ever known someone who’s failed a class before. He knew people failed occasionally, of course, but it seemed more of an abstract concept than a reality. He and Morgana always did well in school, Lord knows if they didn’t Uther would have their heads. But Lance and Gwen also did really well. They both had perfect GPAs and took all advanced courses. It never really occurred to Arthur that Merlin would ever struggle in school, especially given how smart he was. 

“And you’re the only reason I passed English.” Merlin added forlornly, and suddenly everything clicked. He remembered all those afternoons when Merlin would show up with half-finished homework and Arthur would let him copy his. He always just assumed that Merlin didn’t have enough time to finish it the night before. 

“You’re not a delinquent.” Arthur said, feeling something twist violently inside of him at Merlin’s vulnerable, hurt expression. “And Gwaine isn’t either. I just don’t like him.”

“Why?” 

Arthur didn’t actually know why he disliked Gwaine. To be honest, he didn’t really think anything of him until he saw him with Merlin at that party. Before then, Gwaine was just one of Leon’s friends. He got kicked off the soccer team which cost Arthur his offense spot, but the truth was that Arthur didn’t mind playing defense at all. At some point, he realized that he probably preferred it. 

“I don’t know. He’s obnoxious.”

“Okay.” Merlin frowned. “We should probably get to sleep anyways.”

“Yeah, we should.”

“Goodnight, Arthur.” They sat in silence, sliding down onto their pillows. 

“Merlin?” He said after a few minutes, stifling the voice that kept telling him to be quiet. A voice that sounded suspiciously like his father. 

“Yeah?” Merlin responded, voice low and soft.

“Thank you for coming tonight.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”


End file.
